


The Lighthouse Bunker

by JuniperJupiter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bedsharing, Bellarke, Bunker fun, Echo finds redemption because she is awesome and not because she's Bellamy's girlfriend, Eventual other relationships but I have decided on them yet, Harper is a real character, I'm here for the bedsharing, Jasper lives, Lighthouse Bunker, Post-Season/Series 04, Praimfaya | Radiation Wave, Roan Lives, Shenanigans, slowish burn, so much bedsharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperJupiter/pseuds/JuniperJupiter
Summary: “Why are you still here?” Clarke asked in a panic.  “I aligned the satellite!  It turned green!  It dinged!  You should have still had at least five minutes left!  Was I too late?  Oh god, I was too late.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know what to do.”“You really think we were going to leave without you?” Bellamy asked quietly.  Harper gave a small smile behind him.Clarke sunk to her knees and Harper walked forward, giving her a deep hug.“To be fair, I was willing to go, but the pilot wouldn’t take me,” Roan added with a smirk.  Raven rolled her eyes at him.“What do we do now?” Clarke whispered.“That’s what we were just talking about,” Raven said.  “You’re not going to like it.”Clarke looked up, surveying their faces.  Everyone sported a frown except for one: Murphy.  He was grinning like a cat who had just found a canary.“The lighthouse bunker?” she asked.“The lighthouse bunker,” Murphy confirmed.OR, the one where they stay behind and live out five years of Praimfaya in the Lighthouse Bunker.  Think The 100 meets New Girl, but, like, no one can leave…
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Monty Green/Harper McIntyre
Comments: 88
Kudos: 246





	1. Five Years to Go

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic I’ve wanted to see for a while, so I just decided to write it. I’ve changed a few things about Praimfaya’s timing and how it works here, but you still have the same general “death wave about to destroy all life on the planet” thing going on. I expanded and mentally reorganized the Lighthouse Bunker, but tried to keep the spirit and style of it similar to what we saw on the show. Also pretend Murphy never smashed the television.
> 
> This first chapter is very logistics-heavy. I’m not going to apologize for it, because the compulsive organizer and planner in me LOVED writing this chapter, but I will assure you that the rest of the fic will not be nearly so list-y.
> 
> The first couple of chapters are going to be dramatic (because: Death Wave), but from chapter 3 on, the tone is mainly going to be a comedy. I mean, we have ten of our favorite characters (because, PS, Roan and Jasper are still alive and HERE) living in a swanky bunker for five years. It’s The 100 meets New Girl – EJT’s dream, really. And without a shitty showrunner to ruin everything. ANYWAY, this story has a solid beginning and a lot of ideas for the middle. I don’t really have a specific “arc” for it or ending in mind, other than getting to Bellarke eventually (because duh), so it’s really more like a tv series than a movie – I’m going to get them to the bunker and then hilarity will ensue. I’m planning chapters and running jokes like “Murphy gets strangely addicted to Harry Potter and questions the meaning of good and evil” and “Echo cheats at every game they ever play” and “Jasper starts writing fanfiction for a movie they all love and everyone makes fun of him but then gets really, really into it.” I’ll actually welcome suggestions in the comments.
> 
> And, of course, there will be some serious and poignant moments, because otherwise this is just bad, weird stand-up. Enjoy!

Clarke was facing sensory overload. Her hands skimmed over the drawings and calculations that littered the table in Becca’s laboratory. Her ears were filled with Raven’s constant stream of thought, determining just how much time they had and laying out impossible problem after impossible problem. Her mouth tasted blood, but that was from chewing her bottom lip until it was nearly raw. Faintly, she noted that nightblood tasted no different from regular blood. 

She might have found that interesting if she had had the energy to focus on anything other than their very impending doom. 

Her eyes fought to keep up with everything moving and whirring around them and kept dashing between the people, the computer monitors, and the large doors that shielded them from the increasingly radioactive world outside.

The situation was dire.

They had 24 hours until Praimfaya hit. When it did, it would wipe out all life on the surface of the earth. The planet would be unlivable for five years. So that left two options, really: living below the earth or above it.

As for below the earth, well, there was a bunker, but there wasn’t room for all of them. Clarke counted their number as her eyes skimmed the room. Raven and Monty were hunched over a tablet. Murphy and Emori hung back to themselves, whispering and making contingency plans upon contingency plans. Bellamy was pacing, his hand running through his constantly-messy hair. Harper was keeping an eye on Jasper. Monty had talked both of them into leaving the suicide pact in Arkadia, but they all could tell Jasper didn’t really _want_ to be here. And, finally, there were Roan and Echo, standing guard at the main doors, always alert. Clarke didn’t know if they viewed the people outside or inside the lab as a greater threat.

Clarke, Bellamy, and Raven had been assured spots in the bunker, and Clarke was pretty sure Octavia would let Roan in as well. Everyone had counted him dead during the conclave, but Abby Griffin had performed yet another medical miracle in the eleventh hour. Octavia had already been declared the winner by the time Roan breathed again, but she would not easily forget their temporary alliance. The other six people in Becca’s lab had no chance of survival in Octavia’s bunker, though.

It was also questionable whether they could even make it back to the bunker in time. Polis was to the west and Praimfaya would hit it first. Clarke was almost sure they would seal the doors before she, Bellamy, Roan, and Raven could return in time.

That left space. Raven was currently working on plans to get all ten of them up to the ring, but it seemed like those plans were falling apart by the minute.

“We’ll never be able to grow enough food,” Harper pointed out, leaving Jasper to join Monty and Raven.

“But Monty is going to get the algae farm going,” Clarke added.

“Can it feed ten people?” Raven asked quietly.

Monty gave them a doubtful look.

“I’m not sure if it would, and I’m not sure we would have enough rations to live until it did.” They had lots of ration packs, but could only fit a few cases of them into the rocket, especially with ten people.

There was another pause.

“Will the rocket even hold all of us?” Harper asked quietly.

Clarke looked back to the door. Roan and Echo stared at her warily.

“It’s going to have to,” Raven replied.

“We could always use the lighthouse bunker,” Murphy called over. Raven just rolled her eyes. Murphy had suggested this at least a dozen times, but no one really wanted to starve to death in the murder hole that had trapped Murphy for 86 days. They had no idea if it would even survive Praimfaya; there were too many unknowns for them to pursue it as a serious option.

Clarke went back to looking for additional ration packs, even though they had already scoured the lab. They already had more than they could carry in the rocket, anyway. She was really just killing time – she knew that.

A few minutes later, Raven called everyone over to the table, ready to lay out the situation.

“We have 24 hours until Praimfaya hits, but if we want to get to space, we only have thirty minutes to get off the ground. After that point, the radiation levels will be too high for the rocket to take off.”

She proceeded to explain how the radiation would affect all of the different chemicals and systems, but Clarke was no longer paying attention.

_Thirty minutes. So much to do in thirty minutes_.

Raven assigned them all tasks and headed back to the rocket to initiate the launch sequence. Several people started to load supplies. Bellamy, Monty, and Murphy were sent outside in suits to get some exterior door open that they would need for the rocket to take off.

Clarke volunteered for the most dangerous mission – she needed to take a box Raven gave her and plug it into a tower. There was, of course, a much more sophisticated explanation for what she was doing, but she was too tired to absorb it.

Plug in box. Press button. Run like hell back to rocket.

She did the first two things.

She made it to the tower. She plugged in the box. She pressed the button.

And nothing happened. She felt her adrenaline flare with panic.

_Ok_ , she thought to herself, _work the problem_.

The box seemed to be having trouble connecting because of a signal issue. She did some more quick reading and discovered she had to climb the tower.

_Sure. She’d just climb a fucking tower fifteen minutes before they needed to leave to escape the end of the world_.

As she climbed, she realized what that meant. She needed ten minutes to make it back to the rocket. She probably wasn’t going to make it back now. But she needed to keep going if she wanted her friends to have any chance of survival. That was motivation enough to keep her moving.

Slowly, agonizingly, she pulled herself up the tower. She was proud of how her body had strengthened since her landing on earth, but this radiation was a bitch. She kept climbing, though, pushing through the pain and frustration.

Finally, she reached the top. The watch on her wrist was already counting down past nine minutes.

Plug in box. Press button. Run like hell back to rocket.

She plugged in the box. She pressed the button.

Still nothing.

She let out every curse word she knew in English and in Trig. She looked at her wrist. Eight minutes left. They needed her. She climbed to the satellite dish and wrenched it to the left. Nothing. To the right. Nothing. Finally, she angled it one more time and heard a faint click.

She looked back to the box, and finally noted that the red text had turned to green.

She had done it.

She looked in the sky for their rocket, but didn’t see it. The sky was too bright for her to look for long. She started to climb down, knowing she needed to make it back to Becca’s lab and figure out some sort of contingency plan for herself. Maybe she could make it back to Polis. Maybe the lab would withstand the flames. That was probably her best shot at this point.

She didn’t run back to the lab – there was no point now. She didn’t have the energy to run, anyway. She mostly hobbled and staggered back, panting and gasping in her cumbersome suit. She wished she could have brought a rover, but the terrain and the forest would have made driving impossible. Every moment, she expected to hear the rocket take off, but she never did. She assumed that the sounds of the fire and wind – of the world’s impending doom – had drowned it out.

Faintly, she registered that she was sad she didn’t even get to hear or see her friends leave. She thought that might have given her a bit of closure.

She continued to stumble and stagger her way back to the lab, wondering in the back of her mind if it was even worth it. She kept going, however, and soon she could see it in the distance.

When Clarke reached the doors, she entered the code and staggered in in relief, pulling off her helmet as soon as the doors were sealed again.

She took several deep breaths and turned to face the empty lab.

Except, it wasn’t empty.

Nine faces stared at her from the floor.

“Why are you still here?” Clarke asked in a panic. “I aligned the satellite! It turned green! It dinged! You should have still had at least five minutes left! Was I too late? Oh god, I was too late. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” She started pouring out the story of the box and the tower and the satellite dish, but Raven interrupted her.

“You did it in time, Griffin. We were good to go.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you weren’t back,” Bellamy answered firmly.

Clarke shook her head in disbelief. “That wasn’t the plan,” she protested. “You were supposed to go. Supposed to live!”

“You really think we were going to leave without you?” Bellamy asked quietly. Harper gave a small smile behind him.

Clarke sunk to her knees and Harper walked forward, giving her a deep hug.

“To be fair, I was willing to go, but the pilot wouldn’t take me,” Roan added with a smirk. Raven rolled her eyes at him.

“What do we do now?” Clarke whispered.

“That’s what we were just talking about,” Raven said. “You’re not going to like it.”

Clarke looked up, surveying their faces. Everyone sported a frown except for one: Murphy. He was grinning like a cat who had just found a canary.

“The lighthouse bunker?” she asked.

“The lighthouse bunker,” Murphy confirmed.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, all ten of them stood at the base of the lighthouse, watching as Murphy located the entrance.

“Home, sweet home,” he told them with a sweep of his arm.

Raven took a deep breath before leading the group down the spiral staircase. Echo stayed at the top, keeping guard.

They were surveying the bunker now to see if it was survivable. Clarke hoped it was, seeing as this really was their only plan left. The spiral staircase ended at a large metal door. Through that door was a small chamber in which they could stow their suits and boots. The only other thing in the space was a door to the main living part of the bunker. After they had all removed their gear, they quickly entered the residential part of the bunker and shut the door, limiting their exposure to the radiation they were sure had slipped in with them.

When they stepped inside, they found themselves in a large living room type space. It was dark, but lamps along the walls provided a dim, spooky kind of light. The first thing they all noticed was that it was a _mess_. Empty wrappers from ration packs littered the furniture and floor. Chairs were tipped over, detritus scattered everywhere. It looked like someone had set out to rob the place. It smelled even worse – a combination of old food, body odor, and maybe a touch of vomit.

“God, Murphy,” Harper muttered, holding her nose.

“Couldn’t have cleaned up a little bit? You were down here for like three months, right?” Raven asked.

“I thought I was trapped in here to die. Cleaning wasn’t exactly a priority.”

“Couldn’t you have least showered, though?”

Even Emori looked disgusted.

“Ok, ok, let’s look past the mess,” Bellamy advised, ever the voice of practicality.

The large living room space held three couches surrounding a fireplace and a large television. Directly through the living room was a sizable kitchen. Clarke recognized appliances from before the first bombs went off – a large refrigerator, a nice stove – similar to the kitchen in Becca’s mansion. Raven walked quickly into the kitchen to test the appliances and the water. Monty followed her and the two of them discussed the mechanics of how everything was operating. Monty had brought a chemical test kit with him and started pouring samples of water. Behind the kitchen, Raven located a central control panel and she and Monty started poking and prodding.

Harper started opening cupboards. There was cooking equipment – pots, pans, and the like – but no food.

“I ate everything I could find,” Murphy reminded them.

Clarke wandered back to the living room, trying to put the sofas back together and find all of the scattered cushions. She could live here. She could make this work. The living room was packed with gaudy trappings of wealth, including a giant ugly sculpture and a couple of chairs that looked like they were somehow made explicitly to _not_ be sat on.

She walked back towards the main door they had entered. To the left was another public living space, this one featuring a large pool table, a dart board, a bar, and other paraphernalia. Murphy’s mess seemed to dissipate the farther she got from the main living room, which was a relief. There were two motorcycles against the wall across from the pool table and Clarke absently wondered what the hell someone needed a motorcycle for in a bunker. There was also a statue of a dog that the artist in her admired, but the survivalist in her knew she could live without. There was one bedroom off of the pool table room and Clarke found five more off of the central living room. Six bedrooms (and each with its own bathroom!) would be more than enough for them – it would be practically luxurious, she realized. Best of all, they seemed basically untouched by Murphy.

Also off of the pool table room she found a small gym. Emori and Jasper had wandered over with her.

“What are these?” Emori asked.

“Treadmills,” Jasper explained. “We had them on the Arc. Hard to maintain fitness without any space to run. I assume the team that built this bunker had the same thought.”

There were two treadmills, some sort of machine for lifting weights, and, best of all, a small pool Clarke recognized as a swimming treadmill with a current that let the user actually get exercise swimming. It was empty, but when Emori pressed a small blue button, it started to fill with water.

“Cool,” she announced, her eyes gleaming. Clarke couldn’t help but agree.

Clarke opened a door in the back of the gym and squealed out loud when she saw two washing machines and two electric dryers. She hadn’t seen laundry equipment since the Ark and ached for the feeling of clothes that were actually _clean_. On a shelf above the machines, Clarke noted several boxes of laundry detergent as well.

They made their way back to the main living room and Clarke prayed that Raven would have good news for her. This was feeling more real by the moment – they could DO this.

Roan and Harper came out of a room off the kitchen that Clarke hadn’t explored yet and explained that it was a large dining room. Clarke thought that that was probably unnecessary, but she wouldn’t turn down more space when trapped in this bunker for the next five years with nine other people.

Raven and Monty looked like they were finishing up with their inspection, so everyone gathered near the couches, though no one sat down. Clarke wasn’t sure if it was due to the urgency of the moment or the disgusting state of the furniture.

“Please tell me this is livable,” Clarke begged.

Raven took a deep breath.

“From what we’re seeing, it looks like it should be.”

Clarke could tell Raven was trying not to smile. She had her giddy engineer face on.

“The air scrubbers are in great shape and the fact that we’re breathing fine in here now tells us that they should work even after Praimfaya. The electricity is still running and the grid looks to be powered by a combination of solar and wind, so it should theoretically survive praimfaya, if the lighthouse itself survives.”

“It survived the first wave of bombs,” Bellamy said.

“That’s why we’re hopeful,” Monty agreed. “It was clearly built to last through this kind of thing.”

“And clearly built for people to survive in style,” Harper added. “I can’t believe how much useless crap they piled in here.”

“We can get rid of a lot of it to clear some space and bring in more useful stuff,” Clarke suggested.

“Yeah, a lot of this could go,” Raven agreed, turning to survey the bunker. She counted off things they could get rid of, including the giant ugly sculptures, but just as she was about to name the pool table, Jasper squawked in protest.

“I’ve wanted to learn how to play pool my whole life,” he told them. “It looks so cool in movies.”

Raven rolled her eyes, but conceded. “We probably don’t have time to disassemble and carry out that whole pool table anyway. That can stay.”

Jasper whooped in victory. Clarke and Raven exchanged a small smile – it was good to hear their friend happy again, even over something as stupid as a pool table.

“There is also a great water system here,” Raven told them, getting back to the important business. “We’re guessing it’s tapped into an underground aquifer. There’s a strong filtration system in place that is specifically meant to filter out radiation, so we shouldn’t even have to recycle our own pee!”

All nine people in the bunker gasped in relief. Clarke imagined that Echo would too if she could hear them.

“So what’s the catch?” Roan asked.

“Food,” Raven announced, her face falling into a frown. “We have enough ration packs to last a couple of months, since we can bring them all with us in this large of a space. But after that, we would need some kind of farming equipment if we wanted to make it five years.”

“There’s nothing like that at the mansion?” Clarke asked.

Raven and Emori shook their heads. Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking.

“I have an idea,” Monty finally announced quietly. “It’s not a good idea, but it might be all we have.”

Everyone looked at him expectantly.

“When we were walking through what’s left of Farm Station, I noticed some hydrofarming equipment. The Arkadians didn’t take it with them to the bunker because it wasn’t nearly enough to feed everyone there. It was just enough to feed eight or ten people.”

“Let’s go with ten,” Jasper added, eyes skimming the room.

Monty flashed him a tight-lipped smile.

“If we can get to Farm Station and back, we can bring it with us and set it up here in one of the bedrooms. There’s already a mostly functional compost system in place, and I think we can get it going, especially if we can find the enzymes we need in Becca’s lab.”

“Do you know that the hydrofarm equipment will work?” Clarke asked.

“No, but it’s our only option at this point. Even if we’re able to briefly go up to the surface in suits a few years from now, we definitely won’t be able to grow food or anything up there. And I don’t think it will be safe to even _briefly_ return to the surface for at least three years, if not longer.”

“How long of a drive is it to Farm Station?” Bellamy asked.

“Six hours each way at least,” Raven answered. “And that’s with nothing going wrong.”

“How much time do we have until Praimfaya?”

Raven looked at her watch.

“22 hours. But we can’t be positive it won’t speed up… we should be in this bunker locked and sealed in 18 hours, 20 tops.”

“So we need to leave now,” Bellamy decided.

“Who is ‘we’?” Murphy asked.

Bellamy thought for a moment.

“Well take two rovers,” Bellamy announced. They had three total. “That way, if something goes wrong, we have a backup vehicle. We’ll take five people total. Two in one car, three in the other. That will leave plenty of extra drivers if we need it and fighters if we need that too. And we’ll need people to cover us while we search for the equipment.”

Everyone nodded, following his logic. Bellamy’s eyes surveyed the group. Clarke knew he was doing calculations in his head – who could drive, who would be good at defense, who was needed here on the island…

“I’ll take Monty and Jasper, since they know Farm Station best,” he began.

“I’ll come too,” Harper immediately volunteered. Bellamy nodded.

“I’ll join you,” Roan added. “I know the territory and the clans.”

That made five people. Clarke swallowed. She didn’t like being separated from Bellamy, but meeting his eyes she knew this was the best way forward – the only way forward.

“Then it’s settled,” Raven told them. “Get there, get the equipment and any other food or useful things you find laying around, and get back as soon as you can. Keep your radios on the whole time. Check in every hour. If you start to lose signal, let us know as quickly as you can.”

Bellamy agreed and the group moved into action, pulling their suits back on in the chamber at the bottom of the stairwell. When they emerged from the external door, Roan stayed behind for a moment to fill Echo in and Clarke walked with Bellamy to the rovers.

It was awkward between them. She knew he was still mad at her for trying to seal Octavia out of the bunker and for nearly shooting him. In another life, these were the kinds of offenses that could break a friendship or at least lead to a prolonged period of refusing to talk to each other.

They didn’t have that luxury, however – there was too much to be done. So they set the anger and the awkwardness aside as best as they could and focused on the tasks at hand.

“We’ll strip Becca’s mansion of anything useful while you’re gone and try to get the bunker as clean and prepared as we can,” she told him.

Bellamy nodded. “Good idea. Any kind of food, medicine, soap – anything like that would go a long way. I’ll see what I can grab at Farm Station too.”

“No unnecessary risks, though,” Clarke pressed.

Bellamy nodded. “No unnecessary risks.”

They continued talking like that, making plans and avoiding the fact of their separation until they got to the vehicles.

They really were terrible at goodbyes.

“I’ll be back soon,” Bellamy promised quietly.

“Hurry,” Clarke told him, echoing the words he had used earlier before she left for the tower. She only hoped that he had better luck with his task than she had had with hers. Bellamy gave her a tight-lipped smile in response.

Clarke nodded softly at him and started to back away. At the last minute, Bellamy reached out and pulled her into a deep, desperate hug.

“We’re going to survive this,” he told her.

“Together?”

“Together.”

* * *

Bellamy’s team left shortly after saying goodbye. Clarke, Echo, Raven, Murphy, and Emori regrouped in Becca’s lab.

“We have a lot of time, but we also have a lot to do,” Raven announced. “I want to spend as much time here as I can, keeping an eye on the monitors and an ear on the radio. I also want to try to save whatever useful tech I can and synthesize the enzymes Monty will need for the compost.”

“I’ll volunteer Murphy and myself to work on cleaning out the bunker,” Emori voiced, glaring at her partner. “Since he made most of the mess, he should be the one to do the dirty work.” Murphy rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree.

“Try to get rid of anything we don’t need – the garbage, statues, etc.,” Raven told her and everyone nodded in agreement. “Save everything we could use – anything tech, any clothing items or sheets, soap, anything edible, stuff like that.”

“Got it, boss,” Murphy replied sarcastically. Raven leveled her eyes at him and he backed off.

“I’ll go through the mansion,” Clarke told them. “I’ll start a big collection of stuff in the front entryway and then I’ll use the last rover to take it to the bunker in trips. Hopefully you guys are done by then and can help with unloading and everything.”

The group turned to Echo.

“I think the island is pretty safe,” Raven told her. “But it couldn’t hurt to have someone on foot, keeping an eye on everything. When Murphy and Emori are in the bunker and Clarke is at the mansion, we can turn the drones on again, but whenever someone is on the move, it would be good to have you for safety.”

Echo liked her role and offered to help Raven in the lab while the drones were running.

“Let me know if you need help carrying out anything heavy,” Echo added, talking to Murphy and Emori.

Clarke could tell they were all exhausted, but somehow still were finding the energy to move forward with this. After figuring out the last few details, they separated. Murphy and Emori headed for the bunker, Clarke took off for the mansion, and Echo left to do a quick lap before they enabled the drones again. Raven was the only one with a radio connection to Bellamy’s team, but both Clarke and Emori took a local radio they could use to talk to each other and to Raven.

Clarke trudged up the hill to the mansion, grateful for her radiation suit but cursing it all the same. She took it off after making sure the front door was securely closed and locked, but kept it nearby – she didn’t know how well the house would do at keeping out the radiation. She hoped it did alright: she really didn’t want to wear that cumbersome thing through the entire house for the next eighteen hours.

She took a deep breath, looking at the giant mansion surrounding her.

Priorities: Food. Medicine and first aid supplies. Cleaning supplies and toiletries. Clothing. Maybe even some entertainment items, like games and books. It was going to be a long five years, after all.

She headed into the kitchen, remembering watching Murphy cook for Emori here. She smiled a bit without meaning to. It was amazing how much that woman had changed him. She was looking forward to getting to know Emori better in the bunker.

The kitchen had a large pantry. In it, Clarke found six unopened cases of ration-packs. They were expired, of course, but still safe to eat. She carried them to the front entryway and started her pile. She also found cases of old canned goods and microwave meals. She silently thanked the person who invented the better way of storing non-perishables in 2045: these foods were, unbelievably, still safe to eat. There weren’t many of them and Clarke knew they wouldn’t go far with ten people, but it would still be a nice break from ration packs once in a while. 

She found a few other staples that appeared to still be ok: spices, baking supplies, and a lot of salt.

She found the leftovers of the meal Murphy had cooked in the fridge. It wasn’t worth taking to the bunker, but it could make a great meal for her here. She was starving and couldn’t remember the last time she had sat down for a few minutes to eat. She set a portion to cook in the microwave, which gave her an idea.

“Emori,” she called over the radio.

“Yup?” she heard back.

“Does the bunker have a microwave?”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Yes, I’m seeing one here.”

“Can you check to make sure that it works?”

“Good idea. Let me fill a mug with water, give me a sec.”

There was another pause.

“Yup, works well.”

“Perfect.”

By now, her own food was warm, and Clarke sat down to eat a quick bite. She was again shocked by the quality of Murphy’s cooking after taking the first bite.

_I’m so glad we didn’t hang him after all_ , she thought to herself.

She continued to chat with Emori over the radio as she ate. Murphy tried to chime in, but it was clear that his girlfriend was in charge. Emori was taking stock of the kitchen in the bunker and Clarke was jotting down notes on a scrap of paper she found.

“Ew, Clarke, bring the knife block from the mansion. John, what the fuck did you do to these?”

Clarke chuckled as she heard Murphy try to defend himself. The dishes and silverware were basically untouched (apparently Murphy hadn’t felt the need to use them while he was there) and the pots and pans were still in great shape.

Murphy had thrown all of the drinking glasses at the wall in the dining room during one particularly dark moment of rage and despair, so Clarke took some time to wrap up the glasses from Becca’s house and load them carefully into a box. She also luckily found some less breakable drinkware (plastic tumblers) and packed that up too. She didn’t envy Murphy and Emori’s job of cleaning up that bunker – she only hoped they would be able to make it livable again.

Thinking of the broken glass, Clarke also lugged the vacuum cleaner she found in Becca’s mansion to the front door. She had a feeling they’d be needing that.

She admired her growing pile by the front door. She was exhausted, but somehow this work was making her feel more confident. They could do this.

Over the next few hours, she continued building her collection. She started by going through the whole house and assembling a large pile of empty boxes, bins, baskets, and anything she could use for packing and carrying things. She also found more useful things in the kitchen, like garbage bags, aluminum foil, and a good stash of booze that had her _very_ excited. She lugged two cases of wine to the front door, not totally sure how they would have aged, but optimistic.

Emori let her know that the bunker had plenty of sheets, blankets, and pillows for the beds, but that Murphy had destroyed most of the towels (apparently while trying to clean up other messes?), so Clarke gathered big stacks of towels and washcloths from the bathrooms. She also found a good stock of shampoo, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and other toiletries and happily packed those up.

And maybe she took a good long shower and enjoyed herself for a minute. She had time.

Her biggest surprise was clothing. After finding empty dressers and closets in most of the bedrooms, she had basically given up hope, but in one random bedroom she found the motherlode. Drawers of shirts, leggings, soft pants, jeans, socks, underwear, _bras_ – she was in shock. In the closet she found even more, including sundresses and evening gowns.

Though she briefly thought the evening gowns would be a hilarious thing to pack (she couldn’t stop picturing one on Murphy), practicality ruled the day. She grabbed a few of the garbage bags she had found in the kitchen and stuffed them with everything that she thought would fit herself or her friends that they could reasonably wear in a bunker. She knew that she was also preparing for life after the bunker, so also grabbed the few pieces of outerwear she found as well.

For a moment, it seemed ridiculous to pack this much clothing, but then she remembered that she was packing for ten people for the foreseeable future and crammed all of the socks she could find into a bag.

As she packed, Raven checked in with her and Emori, giving them updates on Bellamy and her own packing. Bellamy’s group was making good time. Their pace was a little slower than normal because they were being extra cautious, but they were still on track to make it back in time. Raven had disassembled a lot of Becca’s tech and gleefully described the various pieces she had packed while Clarke offered a casual “cool” and “sounds great” every fifteen seconds or so.

Emori called for Echo’s help in lugging the two motorcycles out of the bunker, but Raven quickly jumped in.

“No!” she cried quickly. “We might be able to use those.”

“What in the world can we use a motorcycle for in a bunker, Reyes?” came Murphy’s drawl.

“The parts might be useful for other stuff,” she suggested.

“You just want to ride them around when we can return to the surface in five years, don’t you. You just want to look like a badass,” Clarke shot back.

“First of all, Griffin, I _am_ a badass,” Raven replied. “And yes, maybe I want to explore our new world from the back of a motorcycle. So sue me.”

It was weird – Clarke found herself floating between moments of panic, staring down at her watch and freaking out over how few hours they had until Praimfaya, and moments of absolute calm and normalcy, like when she was sorting through the clothing she found. Still, she kept an eye on the clock and kept thinking about her priorities.

She didn’t find much medicine (and almost all of it was insanely expired), but she did find some basic first aid supplies and packed those. Luckily, they shouldn’t be dealing with too many medical issues in the bunker, but she figured someone would break something in that five-year span, so she packed all of the bandages, rubbing alcohol, and equipment she could find.

She found a sewing machine and a small box of needles and thread, which she thought was maybe her most useful find of the day in the long run. Though Emori had let her know the bunker was well-stocked with sheets and linens, Clarke packed up the extra stacks she found in the mansion’s many linen closets anyway, knowing they could turn them into clothing if they had to or use them for anything else – she knew that spun cloth was going to be impossible to find after the death wave hit and she couldn’t let all of this go to waste.

She found a good number of gardening implements in a greenhouse-like space attached to the back of the house. Obviously they would have no need for them in the bunker, but if they hoped to survive on Earth after praimfaya, they would probably come in handy. Until then, they could store them in the airlock with their radiation suits. Clarke packed all that she could carry.

A few hours in, it occurred to her that she wasn’t just packing things for them to use during their time in the bunker and afterwards; she was also potentially deciding what items from this house survived. The mansion had withstood the first set of bombs, but Clarke had no idea if it would still be standing after Praimfaya. It killed her to walk past beautiful paintings and statues, comfortable, well-made furniture, and other remnants of human habitation and just… leave them there. She knew they only had a finite amount of space, though, and sacrifices had to be made.

Clarke did take the time to gather things they would want for entertainment and fun, though. In a closet in the study she found a collection of old board and card games and puzzles and she packed every single one. She also found a good store of office supplies, including three boxes of copy paper, a few boxes of pens, pencils, and markers, and a good stack of empty lined notebooks. She packed all of these. She also found a box of Becca’s old files and added that to the stack, thinking there might be something useful in there that Raven would be grateful for. At the very least, it would occupy her mind for a while.

Finally, she stopped outside a room that she supposed served as a library in the mansion. It was covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and each shelf was simply packed with books. Clarke stepped in and wondered what the hell she was supposed to do with this. Books would be a great thing to pack, but how did she decide which ones to bring?

_What would Bellamy do?_ She wondered. But then she rolled her eyes because he would obviously pack all of them. She went back downstairs and considered her piles. She had found a lot, but it still would probably fit in three or four trips in the rover. She wouldn’t be taking up much space in the bunker. Her eyes turned upwards, thinking of the library above her. She decided on a compromise, grabbed two empty storage bins, and filled them with books.

That would have to do.

* * *

Roughly six hours after she had left Raven’s lab, Clarke heard her friend’s voice on the radio. They hadn’t checked in in an hour or so, and Clarke could tell they were all getting tired.

“How’s it going out there?”

“Pretty good,” Clarke replied. “I think I’ve just about collected everything we’ll need from here. Should be a few rover-loads.”

“Mostly done here too,” Emori added. “Miraculously.”

Clarke could practically hear Murphy roll his eyes at that.

“Why don’t you all come to the lab for a break? Bellamy and his team should be reaching Farm Station soon and it would be nice to have everyone here for a check-in. We might also need everyone here if we have to problem-solve anything.”

“Good idea,” Clarke said. Emori agreed.

“I’ll have Echo turn off the drones. Wait five minutes and then head down here.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Clarke, Emori, Murphy, Raven, and Echo stood nervously around the radio in Becca’s lab. Bellamy had checked in about twenty minutes earlier, letting them know they were getting close. The group knew the dangers would be higher the closer they got to the station because surely some grounders were hoping to use it as shelter from the coming storm.

Their two rovers had, so far, done ok during the trip. All five members of their party were still doing ok, though everyone could tell the radiation was increasing. No one said it, but it was clear they were all hoping to make it back as quickly as they could. There would be no lingering when they didn’t need to.

Clarke looked at the timer on her watch. 15:11 until Praimfaya.

The radio burst with static and everyone in the lab jumped. Finally, Clarke heard her best friend’s voice.

“We’re here.”

“Any sign of anyone?” Raven asked.

“They’re gone now.”

“Do we want to know?”

“Nope.”

There was a pause.

“Ok, what’s the plan now?” Raven asked.

“I’m going with Monty and Jasper to find and carry the equipment. Roan and Harper are standing guard. I’m giving Harper the radio.”

Clarke gulped, not liking Bellamy leaving the radio, but she knew it had to be done.

Raven caught up with Harper over the next ten minutes, explaining all that they had collected and made ready for the group. Harper said that their group was tense, but focused.

“Ok, they’re back,” Harper said a few minutes later. “Let me go help them with the rover.”

A few minutes later, Harper was back on the radio.

“Did you get it?” Raven asked.

“Yes,” Harper said excitedly. “It’s all here!”

“Have Monty take a second look and make sure all of the pieces are there.”

“I’ve already looked three times, Reyes,” Clarke heard Monty’s voice reply.

“We all want to get out of here,” it was Bellamy’s voice now, “but we’re going to spend another ten or fifteen minutes looking for anything else salvageable, especially since we have the Rover space.”

Clarke grabbed the radio. “We said no unnecessary risks!”

“We’re fine, Princess,” Bellamy assured her. “There’s no one here and the radiation is manageable. It’s worth it.”

She didn’t like it, but she swallowed her protestations. She paced through the lab as Raven continued to talk to Harper, hearing about what they were finding. Monty found more farming equipment, some of which would be usable in the bunker and some of which would be helpful after they returned to the surface. They luckily found jars and jars of seeds – Raven told them to grab them all. Jasper found some dried meat and fruit, probably left there by grounders who had temporarily taken up residence.

They had just agreed to head back to the rover when Clarke heard a shout on the radio. They all ran to it.

“What was that? What happened?” Raven demanded. “What’s going on?”

“We found Monty’s old still, y’all!” Jasper called. Everyone in the lab let out a deep breath.

“You scared us to death,” Raven chastised.

“Sorry about that,” came Harper’s voice. “Jasper’s very excited.”

“Well load it up and get out of there.”

“Will do.”

A few minutes later, Bellamy’s group was back on the move, this time returning to the lighthouse bunker. So far, everything was going according to plan. Clarke just wondered how long their luck would last…

She looked at her watch. 14 hours and 32 minutes until Praimfaya. They could do this.

* * *

Clarke spent the next several hours with Murphy and Emori transporting all of the things she had collected down to the bunker. She had underestimated the number of rover-trips it would take, but they still had plenty of time and she suspected they were all grateful for something to do. They didn’t take the time now to fully put things away in the bunker, knowing that they would obviously have all of the time in the world for that in the coming days and weeks. For now, they tried to quickly place everything in an area relative to where it would be useful and relatively out of the way – clothing in bedrooms, food and kitchen equipment in the dining room, etc.

It was exhausting, carrying everything in their radiation suits from the mansion to the rover, then from the rover down the steps to the bunker. Clarke tried to savor it, though, knowing that she would soon miss the opportunity to exercise this much and walk this freely. As much as she could, she tried to soak in this freedom.

Clarke was just loading a box of paper into the rover for what was hopefully their second-to-last trip when Raven’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Can you guys get down here? We have a situation.”

“What’s going on?” asked Murphy, since he was the closest to the radio.

“Everyone’s ok, but Bellamy’s team has reached an obstacle. We’d really like to troubleshoot as a team. Drones are off.”

Clarke felt her heart drop to her feet. She, Murphy, and Emori hurried to the lab. She glanced at her wrist on the way there – 12:04 until Praimfaya.

The two rovers were driving on the same roads they had used to reach Farm Station, but apparently some of the forest they needed to drive through was now on fire. They had backtracked and pulled over somewhere safe to reevaluate.

“How thick is the fire?” Echo asked.

“Too thick to drive through, especially when we don’t know how far the blaze extends,” Roan replied.

Clarke paced. She knew they would never make it back on foot if they abandoned the rovers, and definitely never make it back with the equipment they all needed to survive.

“We need to find an alternate route,” Raven announced.

“We have no time, Raven,” Bellamy protested.

“What do want me to do, Blake?” Raven snapped. “I can’t just let you all die there. And if you die, we die, remember. We’ve come too far to give up now. We still have a little under twelve hours. We can figure this out.”

There was a sound that Clarke guessed was Bellamy handing the radio to someone else in frustration. Sure enough, she heard Monty’s voice next.

“We need to find some way to get you our coordinates,” he told Raven.

Raven held the radio to her forehead and clenched her eyes shut tightly.

“Is there any kind of GPS feature on the rover?” Harper asked.

Raven shook her head no before realizing they couldn’t see her, then vocalized it into the radio.

“Anything with their watches? Their suits?” Clarke asked Raven, who again shook her head no.

Finally, Echo spoke up.

“Put Roan on the radio again.”

“What are you thinking, Echo?” came the voice of the former Azgeda prince.

“I’m thinking I know our territory better than anyone else in Azgeda. Describe what you see.”

Roan was quiet for a moment.

“We’re on an old road – it’s mostly dust now. We’re about 100, no 110 miles southwest of the Farm Station wreckage.”

Clarke watched Echo think as Roan talked. She tried to hand Echo some paper and a pen in case she wanted to sketch it out, but Echo pushed it away, choosing instead to rely on the picture she was creating in her mind.

“What kind of trees are around you?” she asked after a moment.

“Mostly pine. A few birch, actually.”

At the mention of the birch trees, Echo perked up.

“Where are you in relation to the birch trees.”

“We’re parked in a grove of them.”

“Is there a stream near you? One that briefly forks into two before rejoining itself?”

There was a pause.

“Holy fuck, yes.”

Echo nodded.

“I know where you are. Where is the fire in relation to you?”

“Mostly to the west, somewhat to the southwest.”

“Ok, I know an alternate route you’re going to take. It’s not going to be as easy. It’s going to add at least two hours to your trip and you’re going to have to cross some water – you’ll probably have to unload some things from the rover and carry them across the water so they don’t get flooded. But it will get you here.”

Clarke felt a moment of relief, but she knew things were still tense. Echo relayed instructions to the rest of Roan’s team.”

“Got it,” Roan told her finally. “Thank you Ec-”

Suddenly the radio was filled with static.

“What’s going on?” Raven demanded.

“Losing signal… think the fire… can barely hear… getting worse.”

“Do you understand where you’re going?” Echo shouted into the radio carefully, making sure to annunciate every word carefully.

“Yes… will call back… further from… on our way.”

Raven and Clarke locked eyes. They now had no radio contact with their friends and with the rovers filled with equipment that they desperately needed in order to survive.

“What now?” Murphy asked, breaking Raven and Clarke’s intense starefest.

“We keep moving forward,” Raven announced.

Clarke nodded her agreement. “We trust our friends to make it back.”

“And if they don’t?” Murphy asked.

“Then we find out how long ration-packs last and pray for a miracle,” Clarke told them.

They agreed. Murphy, Emori, and Clarke headed back to the mansion to finish packing the rover. Echo agreed to stay in the lab with Raven now, in case Bellamy’s team was able to radio in and needed directions. She worked on sketching out a map that she could reference quickly if they called.

Clarke had trouble concentrating on the rest of the work – she could tell they all were facing that challenge – but they did it anyway. She helped Murphy and Emori unload the last two rover loads of stuff from Becca’s mansion into the bunker. The three then stopped by the lab and took four rover loads of things Raven had collected to the bunker as well. That went faster because the lab was much closer to the bunker and, by now, they had built a good system for loading and unloading. Clarke looked at her watch – 10:16 left.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Emori asked. They were standing in the living room of the lighthouse bunker, hands on hips. Clarke was impressed with how well the place had cleaned up. Emori had told her that most of the carnage was, luckily, superficial, and that most of the cleaning had just involved carrying loads of trash to the surface. Clarke had seen the huge pile on the beach and rolled her eyes for the hundredth time at Murphy’s grossness.

“Check in with the boss?” Murphy suggested. Clarke grabbed her radio from her hip.

“How’s it going, Raven?”

“Well we have a huge death wave descending on us in a little over ten hours.”

“That’s bad news,” Murphy shot back, leaning into the radio. In spite of everything, Clarke felt a corner of her mouth tug up.

“Any word from the others?” Clarke asked.

“Not yet.”

“Anything else you need us to do?”

There was a pause.

“Honestly? Not really. My only suggestion is to do another lap or two through the mansion. Take a shower if you want – there’s not much else for us to do now.”

“Sounds good to me,” Murphy responded. He threw the radio back to Clarke and headed for the exit. Clarke and Emori exchanged eye rolls and ran to catch up with him.

* * *

Clarke wasn’t sure which was a worse feeling: worrying that there wouldn’t be enough time for Bellamy and their friends to make it back or trying to kill time while they wandered the mansion. She just felt so useless.

“We’re going to feel like idiots if this mansion survives Praimfaya and we spend five years stuck together in that bunker,” Murphy told them with a grin.

Clarke agreed, but she didn’t think the mansion would survive what was coming. The bunker was definitely their safest option.

The three tore through the kitchen, but didn’t find much that Clarke hadn’t already packed. Murphy found a few more bottles of liquor and Emori discovered another bucket of cleaning supplies. They finished off Murphy’s leftovers in the fridge, starving after all of their carrying and packing. They wandered the rest of the mansion, debating whether to save anything else. 

Murphy did make one incredibly useful discovery – two whole boxes of small video file discs.

“The television in the bunker plays these,” he told them. “They must be from before the bombs.”

“Does it still work?” Clarke asked.

“Yes, but I only had the one disc – if I have to watch that maniac’s monologue one more time I’m going to lose my mind.”

They lugged the two boxes of discs to the front door. Murphy added an old ipod he found in the desk that Clarke was sure even Raven wouldn’t be able to save, but he was optimistic.

They did take showers, enjoying the heat and pressure of the water, as well as the soft towels. They changed into their old clothes because Clarke had packed all of the clean ones in the mansion, but nobody (save Murphy) complained too much.

In a closet downstairs, they also found a few more heavy jackets and packed those, not knowing what the climate would be like five years from now.

When they reached the library, they all stopped short.

“I packed two tubs of books,” Clarke explained. You couldn’t even tell that she had, though, because there were still so many left on the shelves.

“There have to be hundreds here,” Emori said in disbelief.

“Where would we even put them?” Clarke asked.

“Two of the bedrooms have walls lined with empty bookshelves,” said Murphy. 

The three looked at each other and then back to the walls of books. Clarke looked at her watch – they still had over eight hours to go. Emori went out to the hallway and brought in the stack of empty storage bins and boxes that remained.

“Are we really doing this?” Murphy asked.

“You know he’d want us to,” Clarke told him.

“Fucking nerd,” Murphy muttered before grabbing a tote and taking books off the shelves.

Clarke wasn’t sure why they were packing the books. Perhaps it was to save them for all humankind – for whatever came after this. It was quite possible that this was the largest remaining collection of physical books on Earth. Perhaps it was for Bellamy, who they were all feeling a bit more affectionate towards in his absence. Perhaps it was to kill time and take their minds off of their missing friends.

Either way, the books made it into the rover (taking three whole trips, which Murphy grumbled endlessly about, as if they had anything better to do) and into the lighthouse bunker. Towards the end, they started to feel the radiation seeping into the house, probably through the windows, and they packed the last tubs of books with their suits on. Clarke was grateful they hadn’t planned to survive in the mansion, because it was becoming clearer by the minute that it was not going to survive the Death Wave. The three walked through the house one more time and agreed there was nothing else worth salvaging. As a kind of parting farewell, Emori grabbed a soft throw blanket from one of the sofas on their way out. They didn’t need it, but maybe for once they could have something that they didn’t explicitly _need_.

The three headed back to the lab, knowing that this was their last stop before entering the bunker for the next five years. Clarke’s wrist monitor read 5:37, but the best thing they could do now was wait for their friends and get to safety.

As they trudged into the lab, they saw Raven on the radio and heard her excited voice. They raced for the work station.

Clarke heard Bellamy’s voice and let go of a breath she felt like she had been holding for hours.

“Where are they?” Emori asked.

“Three hours away,” Raven told them. “They had to drop down to one rover – the smaller one ran out of power.”

“But weren’t they both fully charged? Does this mean the other one will die soon too?” Clarke pressed anxiously.

“Yes but the larger one has more solar panels and charges as it drives. They should be able to make it back if nothing else happens.”

“Did they lose anything or anyone in the transfer?” Murphy asked.

“Everyone’s fine. They fit everything into the larger rover, though Harper says it’s a tight squeeze.”

“Tell them to drop the still,” Clarke suggested.

“Tell them to drop Jasper and keep the still,” Murphy shot back. Clarke narrowed her eyes at him and was grateful Raven didn’t have the radio on for that.

Raven now did turn it back on, though, and continued to check in with the group. They signed off after a few minutes, promising to check back in more frequently now that they had radio reception again.

“The rest of their journey should be smooth,” Echo assured them. “They’re in empty, flat territory now.”

“Still, they’ll be cutting it close. We’ll have to unload everything and get into the bunker as quickly as we can, especially since we can’t trust our timers to be exactly accurate.”

Raven nodded.

The group turned to look at the digital map of Praimfaya projected on the monitor. Clarke swallowed, noticing that both Arkadia and Polis were now on fire.

“Any word from the bunker?” she asked quietly.

“No, but I was just about to try something when Harper finally got through to me. I was thinking if I just switched this frequency, maybe the new currents in the air will-”

She was cut off when they heard a voice – a familiar voice – coming through their speakers.

“If anyone can hear me, this is Octavia Blake in the Second Dawn Bunker,” she said in a bored voice, as if she had been repeating it for hours. “Calling out pointlessly to ask if anyone is still out there and hoping against hope that my idiot of a brother is still alive.”

Raven scrambled for the receiver.

“Octavia!”

“Raven?!” Octavia’s voice instantly burst with excitement.

“How is everyone? How’s the bunker? Are you safe?”

“We’re safe. We survived the blaze and everything seems secure. The mood is definitely tense, for sure, but we’re all here and we’re safe. Where’s Bell? Put him on – I want to tell him about how his little sister is the one giving orders now.”

Raven paused for a moment.

“He’s not here right now,” she said quietly.

“Where is he?”

“He’s on a trip back from Farm Station to pick up the equipment we need to farm in the lighthouse bunker for the next five years.”

“The lighthouse bunker? I thought you were going to space!”

“That was the plan the last time we checked in, but it didn’t work out.”

Clarke felt guilty, but Raven shot her a look that told her she better not be blaming herself.

Raven filled Octavia in on the rest of the details and the pair promised to check in for as long as they could.

And now, with literally nothing on Earth left to do, it became a true waiting game.

* * *

Three hours later, Echo, Raven, Emori, Murphy, and Clarke stood at the base of the lighthouse. They had parked the rover inside the lab and walked to the bunker on foot, in case there was a chance the lab would survive Praimfaya or at least shield the rover from most of the damage. Raven had said goodbye to Octavia before they left the lab for the last time, giving her a final update and promising to try to contact her from the lighthouse bunker. She couldn’t set up a new communication network there, though, without first severing the one they had open with Bellamy, so they were waiting until he returned. His team had checked in twenty minutes earlier, letting them know they had loaded the rover onto the barge and were headed to the island.

Clarke felt her pulse race as the barge finally came into view. Ten minutes later, the rover was driving onto the island and towards the bunker. They still technically had a little over two hours until Praimfaya hit, but it was clear that the air was becoming increasingly radioactive and even their suits weren’t keeping all of it out.

Bellamy and the others clearly knew this too. As soon as they parked, they jumped out and all ten friends immediately started scrambling to carry everything into the bunker.

“Carefully!” Monty shouted, and everyone did take a moment to pause. Yes, they were in a rush, but if they messed this up they were _screwed_.

The unloading was quick – they didn’t have a lot and they had nine very eager carriers (Raven was already trying to set up a communication line to Octavia). Clarke took one last load down and returned to the surface, where she found Harper. Everyone else was settling into the bunker.

“Where’s Bellamy?” she asked.

“He wanted to drive the rover to the lab – Murphy told him how you parked the other one.”

“That idiot! We don’t have time for that.”

“I know. I told him not to.”

A few minutes later, she saw Bellamy charging down the hill.

“I know, I know, I’m an idiot,” he told her, cutting off her complaints. Clarke rolled her eyes.

Harper headed into the bunker, her helmet disappearing down the stairs. Bellamy started to move towards the door, but noticed that Clarke was still outside.

They looked at each other and instantly Clarke knew they were both thinking of another time she had stopped as he had headed inside to somewhere safe.

“Clarke,” he started in a pleading voice.

“I’m coming this time, I promise,” she assured him. “I just wanted one final moment. One last look. One last breath.”

Bellamy walked towards her and they looked out on the planet they had only gotten to enjoy for a few months. And “enjoy” was putting it kindly.

Clarke felt tears drip down her cheeks and knew Bellamy could see them, even through her cloudy helmet.

“We’ll be back,” he assured her quietly. She nodded and shook the tears away.

Another moment passed – a quiet moment.

“Let’s head in then,” she said decisively.

“Together?”

“Together.”

They walked through the doorway, Bellamy holding it open for Clarke. She wondered if he was being a gentleman or just trying to make sure she really came with him this time. Either way, he followed her in and the two secured the door firmly in place and locked it from the inside.

* * *

Their watches showed ninety minutes until Praimfaya, but they all knew it could hit more quickly than that. Once they were all in the living room, they stood together for a final check.

“Is there anything we’re forgetting from outside this bunker?” Raven asked.

Clarke, Emori, and Murphy quickly ran through the general list of what they had packed and recovered from the mansion.

“Did you grab Becca’s laptop from her office upstairs in the lab?” Monty asked Raven. She answered in the affirmative and caught them up on everything she had packed. No one could think of anything else they were missing.

“Is the door upstairs sealed?” Raven asked. Bellamy and Clarke nodded.

“And the one to the airlock chamber where we stashed the suits?”

“All of the doors are secure and locked,” Bellamy replied firmly.

There was a moment of collective silence.

“Then I think that’s it,” Raven said quietly. Before they could react, though, they all heard a noise coming from the dining room, where Raven had set up the communication unit.

“Hello? Raven? Are you there?”

It was Octavia! They all ran to the dining room.

The connection was crackly and got worse by the minute, but the line held for fifteen minutes. Bellamy got to say goodbye to his sister and the two caught each other up on their adventures over the last 24 hours. Clarke got to say goodbye to Abby and promised her she would see her again soon. Echo and Roan hung back, not really having anyone to talk to, but everyone else got on the radio at least briefly to check in or say hello to someone.

They could tell the connection was dying by the end, so they said their final farewells for the next five years.

“I’ll see you soon, O,” Bellamy promised.

“I love you, big brother.”

“I love you too, O.”

* * *

After the radio died, they all wandered back to the living room. They knew that they should pick bedrooms and get some rest. The five who had traveled to Farm Station probably wanted showers. Still, though, they found that they couldn’t leave each other just yet. They watched the countdown on Becca’s laptop and listened outside. When there were 47 minutes left on the counter, they started to hear noises above them. Powerful winds, the sound of debris crashing into trees – it was really the sound of doom.

They held their breath, unsure of what would happen next.

A moment passed. And another. And their bunker held. The death wave outside still raged, but their bunker was safe.

They collectively exhaled and found themselves smiling and laughing – even Echo.

“We’re gonna be ok,” Monty said in disbelief.

“I told you this bunker was solid,” Murphy fired back.

Clarke and Emori made their way to the kitchen, stepping over piles of boxes and bags. There would be a lot of unpacking to do over the next few days, but Clarke was pretty confident they’d somehow find the time to do it. She and Emori had had an idea earlier that day and now they fetched one of the bottles of liquor they had saved from the mansion and ten glasses.

They brought them to the table in the living room and poured everyone an inch of the dark brown liquid.

“To the end of the world,” Emori announced, raising her glass.

“And to surviving it together,” Bellamy added.

The group lifted their glasses in a toast, clinked them, and threw back the alcohol.

Five years to go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting the first three chapters today so that you can get a sense of the fic. After that, I'll obviously post one at a time very week or every few weeks, depending on life.

**Day 1**

Clarke woke up in the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in. The sheets were crisp, clean, and soft. The blankets were warm and felt luxurious. She had never experienced a pillow so fluffy.

Bunker life had its perks.

She fought the instinct to leap out of bed and get to work. After the events of the last 48 hours (really the last few months), there were all due a late morning. Plus, they literally had five years in this bunker with nothing to do. The tasks she had in her mind for the day – unpacking, organizing, etc. – could all be done later. Vaguely she registered that helping Monty get the farm going was a priority, but even that couldn’t get her out of this bed.

Rolling over, she saw Bellamy laying next to her. He was still deeply asleep, snoring lightly in the silence of their room.

After their toast last night, the exhaustion had hit everyone pretty hard. They had all decided to assign rooms and get some sleep. There were six bedrooms, but Monty had already designated the largest one off the kitchen as the room to store all of their plants and farming operation, so they had five left. Harper and Monty claimed the room next to the dining room. Roan and Echo still didn’t fully trust everyone, so they claimed the one near the main entrance that had two single beds in it. Emori and Murphy took the room off of the pool table space, which everyone seemed to be calling the “lounge.” That left Raven, Clarke, Bellamy, and Jasper. Clarke’s first instinct was to pair with Raven and send Jasper with Bellamy, but when she saw Jasper’s face, she knew he wouldn’t go for it.

He still hadn’t forgiven Clarke and Bellamy for Mount Weather. He treated them civilly most of the time, but Clarke knew that rooming with one of them would be too much for him. Clearly Raven and Bellamy reached the same conclusion.

“I’ll take Jasper,” Raven announced.

Jasper hid his relief behind a sarcastic “at least I wasn’t picked last.” They took the room next to Harper and Monty’s.

Bellamy looked at Clarke and then nodded to the remaining bedroom.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Princess.”

“Goodie.”

She had been too tired to care, though. Their room only had one bed, but it was a king (seriously, how loaded were the people who had built this bunker?!), so Clarke didn’t mind sharing. Honestly, they could have probably fit all ten of them in this bed if they had had to.

Bellamy took time to shower, but Clarke had done so hours earlier in the mansion and was much more focused on falling asleep. She was out before Bellamy even finished his shower.

Now she lay here, staring up at the stark white ceiling. There were small sconce lights along the wall. Clarke noticed that they seemed to be programmed to change in radiance as the day went on, like their lights in space. They were now starting to brighten, signaling to her that it was “morning,” whatever that meant when you lived in an underground bunker at the end of the world.

She was enjoying the brief period of peace when a loud crash from the living room interrupted her thoughts. Luckily, the crash was followed by an “it’s fine!” in Jasper’s voice. Clarke rolled her eyes. Beside her, Bellamy started to stir.

“Did I dream that we committed to spending the next five years in an underground bunker with three grounders, Murphy, and Jasper?” Bellamy asked sleepily.

“Nope, but you also forgot Raven, Harper, and Monty.”

“True, but I don’t hate them.”

“You don’t hate the rest of them either.”

“I hate Murphy.”

“Sometimes I think you love Murphy the most.”

Bellamy groaned and threw one of the pillows over his head.

“At least we get to do it surrounded by the trappings of pre-bomb wealth,” Clarke threw in.

“I’m trying to be mad about it but I can’t muster the energy,” came the voice below the pillow.

“You get some more sleep,” Clarke told him. “I’m going to see what Jasper just broke.”

“If it’s the farming equipment I’m literally going to kill him.”

“We set all of that aside in the sixth bedroom last night. And please don’t kill Jasper – we have no means of disposing of a body for the next five years.”

“I like that that’s your priority.”

Clarke smirked and got out of bed. She was still wearing the clothes she had worn yesterday – she had been too tired to do anything last night except take her bra off. She slipped that back on, knowing Bellamy would keep his head below the pillow until after she left.

When she stepped into the living room, she found Jasper trying to frantically pack hundreds of ration packs back into a box. He looked up at Clarke guiltily.

“I just wanted one of the chocolate ones,” he explained.

Clarke rubbed her temples, but proceeded to help him pack up the rest of the packs. She grabbed one of the chocolate ones as well (he really wasn’t wrong there) and the two ate their breakfast on the couch.

“How’d you sleep?” Clarke asked.

“Like a baby. Did people really live like this before the bombs?”

“The rich ones did.”

They were soon joined by Raven, Roan, and Echo. Bellamy emerged twenty minutes later, stretching his arms above his head. Harper and Monty soon followed.

“Should we wake up Murphy and Emori?” Harper asked.

“I don’t see much point in it,” Raven replied. “Besides, I’d like to go as long as I can without seeing Murphy’s face today, considering I’m stuck with it for the next five years.”

“Good morning to you too, Reyes,” came Murphy’s overly cheerful voice as he and Emori turned the corner into the living room.

Ration packs were tossed around and water was poured into glasses.

“So I guess we should make a plan,” Bellamy announced.

“The main priority is the farm, right Monty?” Raven asked.

Monty nodded. “I should get it set up today. I’ll need some helpers, but not too many people or it will just get crowded. I’ll take Jasper, since he grew up around these plants too. And Roan and Echo, if you don’t mind helping, I’d appreciate it.”

Roan and Echo agreed and Clarke privately thought they looked a little surprised to be included. She wondered if that was part of Monty’s aim all along.

“We should also start unpacking and take an inventory,” Clarke offered. Harper, Bellamy, and Emori agreed to help her with that.

“I’m going to sort through tech,” Raven announced. Clarke noticed Emori’s eyes light up at that idea. 

Before Emori could even ask, Clarke suggested to Raven “why don’t you take Emori for help on that and I’ll get Murphy to help us unpack instead.”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but Raven and Emori seemed very excited by the new arrangement.

They spent the morning engaged in these various tasks. Clarke occasionally heard bangs and curse words coming from the farm room, but it sounded like they had it mostly under control. Unpacking turned out to be a harder task than she had expected. They had brought so much into the bunker that it became a bit like a slider puzzle, with the group constantly trying to find space to sort through things.

“Let’s start with clothes,” Harper finally suggested after several misstarts had proved frustrating. “We can sort through them in the lounge and then put them away in the dressers and closets, which will free up a lot of floor space.”

Everyone agreed and they brought the trash bags of clothes Clarke had taken from the mansion into the lounge, piling them on the pool table and surrounding floor. They also went through the bedrooms in the bunker. Two were empty, but Clarke and Bellamy’s room had two drawers full of clothes in the dresser and Roan and Echo’s room had a good number of things hanging in the closet. Echo carried out a stack of clothes from the farm room and Raven also called out that she had seen some clothes in the closet of her room, so Murphy brought those into the lounge too.

When all of the clothing was in one space, it looked slightly like a department store from before the bombs had exploded. They separated everything into pants, shirts, underwear, bras, socks, outerwear like sweatshirts, and miscellaneous (some skirts, dresses, and one very formal looking suit that Clarke thought might be called a “tuxedo”).

They tried to create even piles for each person, but first had to figure out sizes. This involved getting everyone in the bunker to try on a few things until they could figure out what letter or number on the tag best fit their size. Jasper was weirdly the most into the dress-up game, but Echo had very little patience for it. She was also so tall and gorgeous that Clarke knew anything would look good on her.

It turned out that the clothing took all morning. In the end, though, each person in the bunker was ending up with around eight pairs of underwear, six pairs of socks, between four and eight pairs of pants (depending on their size and what was available), and ten to twelve shirts. Each woman received three or four bras. The random dresses and skirts were distributed among whoever wanted them.

Once the clothing was stored away in dressers and closets, Clarke had to admit that it had freed up a lot of space. Harper had been right to suggest that as their first move – it made everything else easier.

By this point, though, it was time for lunch. They hadn’t managed to unpack any of the other food they had grabbed from the mansion and from Farm Station, so they all settled for ration packs again. Clarke knew they needed to get used to them, anyway. The good news was that the ones they found in the mansion came in all kinds of different flavors. The one she was eating was called “cookies and cream,” and while it was sweet, she thought she could eat this on the regular and not have too many complaints. Bellamy had less luck with a flavor called “coconut crisp,” which he hated so much he had to spit out, and Bellamy was _never_ one to waste rations.

They ate on the couches again – the dining room was too full of stuff to make it usable yet.

“How’s the farm coming?” Clarke asked.

“Alright,” Monty replied. “The equipment is all here, but some of it is damaged and a lot of it is pretty old. We can make it work, but it’s going to take some engineering.” Raven offered to stop by that afternoon and check things out and Monty agreed that would be a good idea.

“What will we even be able to grow here?” Emori asked.

“Well we have some options,” Monty began, “and it would actually be good to have a discussion about it. We have ten posts, each of which has twenty pots for plants. We’ll want to plant things like corn in the bottom pots, so that they have room to grow, and we can use the top pots for things like carrots and potatoes, that grow food in their roots.”

Monty laid out their options. They had a variety of vegetables, though strawberries were the only fruit they could grow in the pots. They also had seeds for fruit trees, but knew there was no way they could grow those in the bunker, so they saved those for (hopefully) the farms after praimfaya. All ten of them spent the next hour mapping out how to most effectively use the 200 plant pots that they had. They prioritized certain foods for the vitamins they carried. They also made sure to plant a lot of corn and beans for carbs and protein. 

Monty also walked them through how they would try to mimic growing seasons by only planting half of the pots at a time, letting the soil rest for the other half of the year. They had no way of canning anything, so this method would make it so they had food to harvest all year round, even if they had less of it at a time. Finally, they would rotate the pots between crops, allowing the soil to replenish valuable nutrients. Monty had different chemicals he could apply to stimulate growth, but wanted to save as much of his supply as possible for the scorched earth after the bunker. Clarke was feeling good about their plans and was _so glad_ they had Monty in this bunker.

In the end, they had mapped out (for each cycle of 100 pots): 10 pots each for corn, green beans, runner beans, spinach, and carrots; 8 pots each for strawberries and bell peppers; 7 pots each for tomatoes and eggplant; and 5 pots each for zucchini, squash, cabbage, and lettuce.

Monty thought it would take about two months before the crops really started coming in at a level where they could survive on just them and not the ration-packs. Clarke’s group decided to spend the afternoon doing inventory on the food so they could make a long-term plan for the crops and ration-packs.

It took them a while to gather all of the boxes and bags of food, some of which had come from the mansion, some from Becca’s lab, and still more from Farm Station and their own individual stores. The bunker had a large walk-in pantry that was now empty, Murphy having eaten all of its contents during his previous time there. Bellamy and Harper stacked boxes and arranged supplies while Clarke and Murphy counted and took notes.

After a few hours, they had a full inventory. They had 20 cases of ration-packs, with each case containing 400 packs. Beyond those cases, they also had 120 loose packs they had found in various places. They had three boxes of non-perishable food that Clarke had brought from the mansion and two bags of dried meat and fruit they had found at Farm Station. Altogether, those additional supplies would probably only feed the ten of them for a couple of weeks, but they would make good breaks from ration-packs.

If they continued to eat three meals a day, they had enough food for all ten of them for roughly 300 days. If they went down to two meals per day, they could stretch that to over 400. This left them a comfortable cushion to get the farm started, and assuaged a lot of Clarke’s nerves. Still, they wanted to preserve as many of their rations as they safely could. Monty had warned them to expect periods when the crops wouldn’t produce as much or when a disease wiped different crops out for weeks at a time. They would also need to save some supplies for their return to Earth. In short, their numbers told Clarke she had nothing to worry about for now, but things were still tight.

By dinner time, everyone in the bunker was exhausted from their day of work. They caught each other up over their ration packs. Monty’s group had gotten all of the equipment set up and about a quarter of the pots planted; they would easily finish that up the next day. Raven and Emori hadn’t been able to access any communication channels, but they had managed to power up two laptops and sort through what tech equipment worked and what didn’t (yet). Clarke’s group still had a lot to unpack, but everyone was grateful for the clothing and the food inventory.

“Ok, enough work for the day,” Murphy announced. Clarke looked around, waiting for someone to argue with him. She found everyone glancing at her, waiting for _her_ to argue with him.

“Oddly enough, I think I agree with Murphy,” she said, and everyone in the room exhaled and smiled slowly, agreeing.

Murphy disappeared into the dining room and returned carrying one of the two boxes of video discs he had recovered from the mansion.

“It’s movie night!” he announced.

The group sifted carefully through the box, debating what to watch. There were a few films Clarke had seen before on the Ark, but most of these were new to her. Emori had watched things at the mansion before, but was up for anything. Roan and Echo eyed the whole thing warily.

Finally, the group settled on what looked to be a light comedy, all deciding that they could use with some laughs after recent events.

Murphy powered up the television and gently replaced the disc that was currently in the drive with the new one. He made to crack the old one in half, sick of the monologue that had almost made him lose his mind, but Raven demanded it, saying she might need to watch it at some point. Murphy sighed but agreed.

They all settled in to watch the film. Harper and Monty snuggled up on one couch, with Jasper sitting at the other end of it and annoying them every few minutes. Bellamy and Raven sat on the second couch and when Roan joined them, Bellamy did his best not to look too uncomfortable. Emori and Murphy sat on the floor in front of them. Clarke sat with Echo on the third couch for a while, but Echo got bored with the film after ten minutes or so and went to figure out how the treadmills worked. Bellamy took her seat next to Clarke, letting Roan and Raven stretch out.

The film was funny and, frankly, just what they needed. Clarke smiled as she looked around the room. Sure, things weren’t great. They were trapped in a hole underground for the next five years. Their food source was promising, but far from guaranteed. Still, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly fortunate in that moment. If everything turned to shit tomorrow, at least she had this night to relax and watch a goofy film with her friends.

* * *

By the end of the week, they had everything organized and sorted. The video discs were set up in a cabinet in the living room. The games and puzzles were stored on shelves in the dining room, along with the office supplies. The books had been distributed between Bellamy’s room and Raven’s, which were the two with the walls of bookshelves. Everything had a place and the things that they wouldn’t need until after they left the bunker were tucked away in the closet in the farm room.

By the end of the week, the bunker looked like a relatively normal, somewhat messy and chaotic home.

By the end of the week, everything was planted and growing (well, not visibly, but hopefully under the soil) in the farm room.

And, by the end of the first week, at least half of the ten residents of the bunker were going insane.

The novelty of living in a swanky underground bunker, as it turned out, wore off quickly. As their immediate tasks dwindled, the reality of their future began to sink in.

Bellamy was, perhaps unsurprisingly, the first to crack. He made it to the end of their second full day in the bunker. Unpacking and organizing supplies had distracted him until then, but from lunch-time-on that day, Clarke could sense him starting to unravel. She should have known he would be first to crack – Bellamy Blake did not belong in a cage.

He finally broke down that night while Murphy and Jasper were arguing over what movie to watch. No one was really invested in the argument. Harper was laughing about something with Emori. Echo was showing Raven and Roan how to use the treadmills.

“What does it matter?” Bellamy suddenly bellowed. The whole bunker immediately fell silent. “What does it matter what fucking movie we watch tonight? We’re going to be stuck here, watching the same old shit every day for the next five fucking years. Doing nothing but _sitting here_.” He started to pace and his voice rose. “What were we even thinking when we locked ourselves in this fucking coffin?!”

Most of the friends started to back away. Roan moved closer but Clarke could tell he only wanted to keep the peace. She was briefly grateful they had all decided to leave weapons in the airlock chamber with the radiation suits.

Clarke approached Bellamy carefully. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, but he jerked it away.

“I don’t want to hear it, Clarke.”

“Bellamy, take a deep breath for me.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yeah, that’ll help,” he spit out sarcastically.

“Let’s go talk in here,” she said, steering him into their room and away from everyone else. She knew that he was about to snap at the audience and wanted to avoid a larger conflict.

She closed the door behind them and Bellamy continued to pace angrily, now making smaller circles in their room. He ran his right hand through his chaotic curls and clenched his left fist.

“Let me guess,” he told her. “I need to suck it up and put on a brave face for everyone. I’m a leader, they’re my responsibility, and it’s my job to-”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” she interrupted.

“Oh, what, you’re going to tell me that I’m acting like a child?”

“Also not what I was going to say.”

Bellamy scowled at her, but finally stayed quiet so she could talk.

“I was going to say that what you’re feeling is normal and valid and, if I were to guess, I think we’re all going to have similar meltdowns over the next few days.” Bellamy rolled his eyes when she said “meltdowns,” but let her continue. “But the reality is that we are stuck here for the next five years. We have no other options. We made our choice. So now the only thing we can do is support each other through it.”

At that, Bellamy’s anger slipped out of him and was quickly replaced by anguish. He fell to their bed and buried his head in his hands.

“I can’t do this, Clarke.”

“Sure you can. We’ve faced worse.”

Bellamy snorted. Clarke sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He rested his on hers in turn.

They sat quietly for a few moments. Clarke was pleased to hear Bellamy’s breathing slowing down.

“I know you’re right,” he grudgingly acknowledged. “I just hate all of this.”

“I know. I think it’s going to be harder than any of us thought. But we can’t turn on each other, ok? We need to lean on our friends, not snap at them.”

“Snapping is more fun.”

“In the moment.”

Bellamy sighed. They were quiet for another couple of moments.

“We still haven’t talked about what happened in Polis,” she said quietly.

“I know. I’m still really mad at you.”

“You have the right to be.”

“Can we fight about it in like a week or two? I don’t have the energy right now.”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bellamy smirked at that.

They were quiet for a moment and Bellamy looked around the room. His eyes settled on the stack of boxes and bins along the far wall.

“What are those?” he asked. “More to unpack tomorrow? Geez, Clarke, how much shit did you pack?” They had spent that second day in the bunker unpacking more essential things, so they hadn’t gotten to these stacks yet.

“Oh, those are the books,” Clarke replied casually.

“The _what_?”

Clarke suddenly realized she had never told Bellamy about the library. In all of the chaos of the last 48 hours, she hadn’t really found time. She explained now what she had found and how she, Murphy, and Emori had packed all of it up.

“You packed all of those books just for me? You carried all of those boxes out of the mansion and down to this bunker just for me?”

“And, you know, for all of humankind.”

“But mainly for me.”

“Mainly for you.”

Bellamy turned and gave her a big hug.

“Thanks, Princess,” he told her softly, and she knew he wasn’t just talking about the books.

Clarke grinned into his shoulder before letting him go.

He raced to the boxes and started to dig through them, calling out titles in excitement.

Clarke laughed and went back out to watch the movie, letting everyone know that Bellamy had found alternative entertainment for the evening.

* * *

As Clarke had predicted, Bellamy’s was the first, but far from the final, meltdown among their group. On Day 3, Harper started sobbing in the middle of her morning ration pack and it took Monty and Raven twenty minutes to calm her down. Echo and Monty had both broken down on Day 4, though Echo responded by running at full speed on the treadmill while sobbing for over an hour, while Monty preferred to seclude himself in the farm room.

Surprisingly, Jasper proved to be the cheerleader they all needed. Perhaps because he had spent the past year dealing with the trauma of losing Maya, he was pretty numb to the idea of living in a hole for five years. He became the shoulder that everyone could lean on and the ear that everyone turned to to confess their fears. Clarke noticed him thriving in this position and smiled at the confidence he seemed to be developing in his new role.

Jasper required a group activity every evening to lift the bunker’s spirits, and everyone agreed it was a good idea. Some nights, they watched a movie. Other nights, they had pool and dart tournaments in the lounge. One night they set out the board games and played for hours.

…

Clarke herself lasted two weeks before having her meltdown, which wasn’t surprising, considering how often she had prioritized everyone else’s needs above her own. It was fitting that she had to let everyone else break down first before her.

Their second week in the bunker was filled with little spats and temper tantrums. Murphy kept the television on all day. Monty complained that the noise kept him from focusing, to which Echo rolled her eyes. Jasper wanted to drink more of the alcohol they had stashed, but Raven and Harper protested that they weren’t sure they could make more yet and that they should save it. Roan mostly kept to himself, but Clarke heard him mutter about his missing weapons roughly four times per day. Bellamy remained relatively stable after his initial meltdown, but always had to be _doing_ something or _helping_ someone. His inability to sit still for more than three minutes was driving everyone up a wall.

Clarke’s meltdown came on Day 14. She had been thinking of a plan over the last few days – a plan that she knew nobody in the bunker would like – a plan that _she_ didn’t really even like. But she was driven by compulsion, by something she knew she could explain if she thought about it hard enough but really didn’t want to think about at all.

She sat down across from Raven at the dining room table that afternoon. Raven was tinkering on the laptop, trying to figure out how to get into Becca’s encrypted files.

“So I was thinking,” Clarke began, avoiding eye contact with Raven and looking instead at her hands in her lap.

“I was thinking it might be good idea for me to try to go to the surface and see what’s up there.”

At that, Raven looked up in disbelief.

“What?!”

“I just think that it might be helpful for all of us to know what’s up there. And I have the nightblood so-”

“ _Untested_ and _unproven_ nightblood, you mean,” Raven fired back. “Didn’t your nose start bleeding when you were out there without a suit on the way to the island?!”

“Yes, but–”

“Clarke, no, absolutely not.”

Now Clarke stood and her voice grew louder.

“It’s worth the risk, Raven!”

Echo appeared in the doorway to the dining room. She watched the conversation for a moment before disappearing again.

“What could we gain, Clarke? We already know that Earth won’t be livable again for five years. We have no immediate need to get up there. We know that it’s a disaster. What could we possibly gain from sending you up there?”

“I could test the suits!”

“And if they failed?”

“Then at least we know!”

“Yeah, and then you’re _dead!_ ”

Suddenly, Bellamy burst into the dining room, with Echo close behind him. Clarke realized that the former Azgeda spy had gone to get him after watching the conversation unfold. The rest of their friends were close behind, but they hung back in the kitchen.

Bellamy approached the pair slowly. It was clear that he had heard the last bit of the debate and he, like Raven, looked at Clarke in disbelief.

The three were silent for a moment. Clarke took a deep breath, tried to muster what was left of her confidence and dignity, and turned to Bellamy.

“Bellamy, please tell Raven that it would be useful for me to go to the surface in a radiation suit and see what’s up there.”

“Like hell, Clarke,” Bellamy shot back with a huff.

“It’s the right thing to do!” Clarke shouted, her voice breaking.

Suddenly, the other nine realized what was really happening in this moment.

“Woah, woah, woah, Princess, calm down,” Bellamy said, his voice growing calmer. Clarke was shaking by this point. She leaned over the table and clenched the edge of it with white knuckles.

“What’s going on, Clarke?” Raven asked softly.

“I need to do something,” Clarke replied after a moment. “I need to do something for you all. You’re only trapped here because of me. I don’t deserve to be here. None of you should have to be here.”

“What are you talking about, Clarke?” Harper asked, moving forward into the dining room. “We are only _alive_ because of you. You stopped ALIE. You told us about the death wave.”

“I should have gotten you to _space_ ,” Clarke shout out bitterly.

“So we could starve to death in a tin can?” Bellamy replied. “How would that be any better than this.”

“You would at least have windows,” Clarke said softly, but even she could tell she was grasping at straws.

“But we wouldn’t have you,” Raven answered definitively. Bellamy reached for Clarke just as she collapsed into sobs and she buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and Raven came up behind her as well, running her hand down her back.

“I don’t deserve to be here,” Clarke insisted.

“First of all, you do deserve to be here, because you have saved each and every one one of us more than once,” said Harper. “And, when it comes down to it, none of that even matters. You deserve to be here because you are a human being and your value is not determined by your achievements.”

The bunker was silent. It was perhaps the boldest, most admirable thing any of them had ever said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t put you on the list,” Clarke replied, stepping away from Bellamy to meet Harper’s eyes.

“I forgive you,” Harper told her. “And I’m glad that I’m here with you.”

Clarke hugged Harper and soon the whole group was crowding into the dining room.

“I didn’t really want to go to space anyway,” Roan announced, setting off a contagious laugh among the group.

There was a moment of peace, as the bunker residents looked at each other, laughing and crying, and deeply appreciating that they were all here, alive and together.

“You good?” Bellamy whispered quietly in her ear.

She nodded, but rested her head on his chest again.

“I’m good.”

Suddenly, there was a cry from the other side of the kitchen.

“Guys, come see this!” Monty called in excitement.

The group moved out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the farm room.

“Careful,” Echo cautioned. She had become very protective of the plants and equipment since helping Monty set them up. She kept a particularly close eye on Jasper.

Monty motioned them all over to one of the pots and they crowded around him to see.

There, in the center of the soil, stood a small shoot. It was perhaps a centimeter high, but it was there, and it was green, and it was alive.

Clarke felt tears gathering in her eyes, but this time in elation.

“We’re going to be ok,” she told the group confidently.

“We’re going to be great,” Harper replied, throwing her arms around Monty.

The group moved out to the kitchen to celebrate, at Echo’s insistence so as to not knock anything over.

Jasper turned on some music, Raven passed around one of the bottles of liquor, and Echo slipped back into the farm room to stare at the shoot some more. Roan danced with Emori and Murphy. Harper continued to hang off of her boyfriend’s neck, squealing with joy. Bellamy kept his eyes on Clarke, still making sure she was ok.

But, she was now. She was ok. She was safe and she deserved to be safe. She was surrounded by people who loved her and cared about her. And she had five years to enjoy with them in this tiny swanky box.

She grinned at Bellamy, took a sip from Raven’s bottle, grabbed Jasper’s hand, and went to join the dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I know nothing about farming, so shrug emoji there. It sounded pretty good, right? Also, I will not be addressing the toilet paper situation in the bunker. Just pretend it’s magical.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy’s POV

On Day 23, Bellamy Blake found himself doing Clarke Griffin’s laundry. But to understand how and why that happened, we need to back up a bit.

**Day 15**

Like most mornings, Bellamy woke up to the sound of a crash coming from the living room. He was starting to think Jasper did it on purpose. No one even reacted anymore, but the predictable noise served as a kind of alarm clock for the bunker. If Jasper was up, it was time for everyone else to get up and make sure he didn’t burn the place down.

He groaned, lifting his arms to cover his eyes. He heard Clarke huff in annoyance as Jasper called out (loudly) “don’t worry about it, everyone! I’m ok!”

“Remember back in the dropship days when you fought me so hard to keep him alive?” Bellamy asked.

“Don’t even say it,” Clarke fired back.

“I won’t say it. But I’m thinking it.”

“I think it every morning.”

Bellamy smiled. He was happy to see that Clarke was feeling better today. Her meltdown yesterday had shaken him a bit – it had shaken everyone a bit, honestly. She was the rock that kept everyone steady, the glue that held them altogether, and other metaphors he’d be able to think of if he didn’t have to listen to Murphy berating Jasper for the third time that week.

“The couch hasn’t moved in two weeks? How could you trip over it!” they heard from the living room.

“I just wasn’t looking!” came the reply.

“We need some order in this place,” Clarke sighed.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we start with a house meeting.”

“Good call. Want me to round up the troops?”

Clarke paused and let out a prolonged yawn.

“Let me shower first.”

* * *

After everyone had showered and eaten their morning ration bars, Bellamy followed through on his word. Though he was the one that had called the meeting, everyone looked expectantly to Clarke once they were all gathered in the dining room… and Bellamy supposed that was fair, though he did find it annoying.

“Ok,” she began, getting right to the point in her typical fashion, “it’s no secret that these first two weeks have been rough on all of us, myself included. We have the means to survive down here, but we’re not going to make it long if we keep fighting with each other and driving each other crazy. We need more of a system – more order.”

Clarke looked like she was ready for everyone to fight her on her suggestion, but Bellamy was relieved to see that everyone quickly agreed.

“I think we need to set some rules,” Raven suggested. Bellamy reached for a sheet of paper and a pen from their supply on the shelves. He started to write as people suggested things.

“We need limits on the television,” Monty announced. 

Murphy immediately rolled his eyes. “The television’s the best thing about this place,” he countered.

Jasper agreed with Murphy, but everyone else sided with Monty.

“Why don’t we restrict it to the evening, when people are done with whatever they want to focus on for the day,” Echo suggested. She received several nods at the suggestion.

“So television can stay on after dinner but not before?” Bellamy suggested. Murphy thought for a moment before grudgingly accepting the compromise and Bellamy wrote it down.

“And it goes off for the night at midnight,” Harper added. “It’s too loud to sleep through.” Bellamy kept writing.

“I think everyone should have a required daily shift in the gym,” Echo suggested. “It’s important that we maintain our fitness for when we get out of here.”

“And I also think it helps everyone mentally,” Clarke added.

There were groans from Murphy and Emori, but they understood the logic.

“Thirty minutes minimum of exercise per day,” Bellamy read as he wrote.

“How are we defining ‘exercise?’” Murphy asked, waggling his eyebrows at Emori. Raven faked a gagging noise and Bellamy threw his pen at Murphy’s face.

The group continued to negotiate rules, with Bellamy playing scribe. 

  1. Television can come on after dinner, but not before. Noise curfew is midnight.
  2. Everyone must _use the gym_ to get thirty minutes minimum of exercise per day.
  3. All food and alcohol must be consumed in the public spaces unless permission from the larger group is otherwise granted.



This rule had been established to make sure no one depleted their resources without the knowledge of the rest of the group.

  1. Keep all displays of affection _private_ , not public. We have six bedrooms in this bunker.



The fourth had been Jasper’s suggestion after catching Murphy and Emori nearly having sex on the pool table. It was quickly agreed upon by everyone except the pouting couple.

  1. Occupants of each bedroom are responsible for keeping them clean and sanitary.



It was at this point that Murphy protested that the rules so far all seemed to be directed at _him_. No one contradicted him.

  1. Each Tuesday is cleaning day, where all bunker residents will work together to clean the public spaces.
  2. Every Saturday, all bunker residents are encouraged to participate in a group activity, such as a movie, board game night, or friendly competition.



Jasper wanted this last rule to be mandatory, but Monty and Echo both pushed back and, in the end, everyone decided that a group activity would be far more fun if no one was participating against their will. Raven had reported earlier that the computer was still up to date on the date and days of the week (Abby and Jackson had updated everything when doing their research), so they would be able to keep track of time without scratching tallies into the wall or anything similarly ominous.

“I feel like we’re going to want to add to these rules as time goes on,” Harper said after they had reached the end of their list. “What’s our mechanism for adding rules? And in general, making decisions?”

The group thought about that, throwing ideas around.

“I think we should have a leader,” Clarke announced. The group’s eyes flitted between her and Bellamy. They also looked at Roan to see how he was taking this. “And I think it should be Harper,” she said, surprising everyone.

“Me?” Harper asked, confused.

“I think Bellamy, Roan, and I have done enough leading for a while. Harper is thoughtful and logical, she has sound judgment, and she approaches situations with a level head. I nominate her,” Clarke declared.

Raven smiled. “I think Harper’s a great pick.”

“You know my thoughts on it,” Monty offered with a smirk. The group continued to discuss the proposal and everyone agreed Harper would be a great pick. Bellamy noticed, though, that Roan and Echo were quiet.

“What do you guys think?” Bellamy asked them.

Echo looked at Roan before addressing the group. She thought for a moment before carefully stating “we know we’re out numbered here” and offering no further details. Roan sat back and crossed his arms.

There was a moment where everyone was quiet, thinking. Bellamy had been worried about this when they were first planning their escape to space. They had seven members of Skaikru and three grounders, including Emori. The numbers were uneven from the start. While he knew that he and his friends had no intentions of excluding Roan, Echo, or Emori or treating them unfairly, he also knew that if the tables were reversed, he would feel insanely vulnerable.

“How about this,” Bellamy suggested. “All bunker decisions have to be unanimous. I don’t want anyone feeling like decisions are being made without their control. I know how it feels to feel powerless and like someone else is in charge of your life. We control the rules down here, so let’s do better.”

Harper smiled in agreement, but then her brow furrowed. “I’m flattered that so many of you think that I would be a good leader,” she began, “but if we’re serious about this, we should take a private, confidential vote. If it’s not unanimous, we start over.”

“We could be here all day!” Murphy pouted, rolling his eyes.

“Well it’s not like we have anywhere else to be,” Raven shot back.

“Do you want to deliver any kind of campaign speech?” Clarke asked.

Harper thought for a moment.

“Well, I agree with Clarke that a leader could come in handy, even just to give us some order here. I think that a good leader should be a good listener and an impartial judge, someone who can bring people together but also separate them when necessary. I think that, in our situation, a leader should recognize the unevenness of our situation. We have seven former residents of the Ark here, two members of Azgeda, and one…” Harper struggled when trying to label Emori.

“Eh, a little of this, a little of that,” Emori offered with a smile. “I’m good with ‘grounder.’”

“And one grounder,” Harper continued with a thankful smile. “A good leader for us should be someone who weighs each situation from the perspective of each of the ten people here and who tries to reach decisions for the good not only of the collective, but of each individual. I like to think that I could be that kind of a leader.”

“How would you do in a conclave?” Roan asked with a smirk that lessened the tension in the room.

Bellamy expected Harper to demur, but instead she met Roan’s eyes and stated confidently “I think I’d hold my own.”

Now Roan’s smirk grew into a genuine smile. Bellamy knew they had bonded during the trip to Farm Station and he knew that was another good reason for Harper to be the leader: she had Roan’s trust. \

Raven called for the vote.

Clarke tore up a sheet of paper into equal-sized pieces and the group passed the pen around. The folded up their ballots so that they were identical and then dropped them into a bowl. Bellamy swirled them around so that they were entirely mixed, and then they laid out the ballots on the table so that everyone could see that the count was fair.

In the end, there were nine “yes” votes for Harper and one “yes, but I still think we should have a conclave.” Everyone rolled their eyes at Roan, whose smile let them know it was only a joke.

By the end of the morning, they had a leader (Harper), a list of rules, a system for adding rules and making decisions, and a system of discipline for if any of the rules were broken, which essentially amounted to forcing someone to stay in their room and banning them from leisure activities like the television or pool table. It wasn’t much, but they didn’t really have many options there. They also decided to hold a house meeting each Tuesday (cleaning day) to air any grievances, settle any disputes, and generally check in with everyone.

* * *

They decided to celebrate their newfound order by forgoing the typical ration bars during dinner that night. Instead, they sorted through some of the non-perishable food they had found at the mansion and mixed it with the dried meat and supplies from Farm Station.

Murphy and Emori took the lead on cooking. Bellamy was skeptical, but Clarke assured him that he wouldn’t regret it. Murphy surveyed the assortment of cans and dried ingredients and reached under the cupboard for a giant pot.

“Time for soup,” he announced.

Bellamy watched Murphy and Emori open the cans and mix them in the pot. There were canned beans and vegetables. Murphy also added a lot of water for the stock. Emori cut up the dried meat and they added that once the stock was boiling. Murphy dug through the collection of old spices Clarke had brought from the mansion and added a few dashes to the pot as well.

They rinsed out the cans and saved the tin for Raven to tinker with (“you can never have too much scrap metal,” she said cheerily). After an hour or so, Bellamy had to acknowledge that the kitchen at least smelled heavenly.

When the soup was ready, Murphy dished it out in bowls. They only had six bowls, so four people used ceramic mugs instead. It worked. Bellamy surveyed the meat and vegetables floating in the broth of his bowl. He looked at Clarke warily, but she nodded in encouragement.

He took a bite and had to admit that it was _terrific_. It was perfectly savory without being salty. It felt both hearty and heartening.

He looked up to find Murphy smirking at him, knowing he had impressed his former rival.

“Well, at least we found one thing you’re good for,” Bellamy offered him with a smirk of his own.

“Yeah, yeah,” Murphy shot back with an eye roll. “Keep pretending I’m not your favorite.”

* * *

That night, Bellamy watched Clarke braid her hair before bed. She had talked about cutting it, but he suspected that she didn’t trust anyone in the bunker with it – she wasn’t desperate enough yet.

They still hadn’t talked about what had happened at the Second Dawn bunker yet, but he knew they would. They were taking their time, for once.

She smiled when she saw him watching her and came to join him in their bed. He had thought sharing a bed with her would be awkward, but it really wasn’t. The bed itself was huge, so there was plenty of space for them each to stretch out. She didn’t snore or talk in her sleep. He even enjoyed chatting with her in the evening, going over their days. It was all laughably domestic.

“I think that meeting went well this morning,” Clarke offered.

“Definitely. I’m surprised you turned down a leadership position, though.”

“I think Harper is what we all need.”

Bellamy noticed that Clarke wasn’t looking at him now.

“Hey, what’s going on? You know that you would have been great at that too, right?”

“Would I have?” she asked quietly. “I think I’ve proven rather lacking in that department.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked incredulously.

“When I’m in charge, people die, remember?”

Bellamy was quiet for a minute.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he told her by way of apology.

“You weren’t wrong, though.”

“But I also wasn’t right.”

She looked at him now as he continued. “We put you in charge of unsavable situations. You kept so many more people alive than you got killed. You have saved everyone in this bunker at least once. You motivate everyone out there.”

“I think you’re confusing me with you,” she said, poking him in the side.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m better at speeches. But you’re the one with the ideas.”

“Still, I think a little change in leadership will be good for everyone,” she said, calmer now.

“Sure. We’ll just kick our feet up and let everyone else make the decisions for a change.”

“And not intervene at all, because we’re both definitely not total control freaks.”

They shared a knowing look and a small laugh.

“So what are you reading tonight?” Clarke asked, motioning to the book he had laid across his lap.

“ _Catch-22._ I read a digital version in school, but it’s cool to read a physical copy of it.”

“I never read it,” Clarke replied and Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I could never decide whether to read it or just let Wells tell me the highlights. It was a real “Catch-22” if you know what I mean,” she finished with a smug grin and an elbow to his arm.

“That was the lamest joke I have ever heard.”

Clarke laughed. “Come on! It was a good one.”

“Nope, terrible. I’m talking to Harper tomorrow. Banning you from jokes.”

“All decisions require a unanimous vote. You’re shit out of luck there, because I, for one, am strongly in favor of my humor.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, Princess.”

“I do what I want,” she replied sleepily, rolling over and going to sleep.

* * *

Three days later, everyone was gathered together in the living room for their first formal group night. It felt a little anticlimactic, since they had all basically hung out together every evening that week, but this was the first _official_ one, as Jasper kept telling them.

Tonight, Murphy had declared it poker night. That meant, of course, that they all had to spend the first part of the night learning how to play poker. Murphy, Monty, Harper, and Bellamy already knew how to play, so they explained the general rules of the game and played a few hands to show everyone how it worked. Raven wrote up a list of ranked poker hands and propped it up so everyone could see it. They didn’t have poker chips, but Jasper had spent the whole day (he was excited, ok?) making his own chips with paper and markers, which he now distributed to everyone. There were several decks of cards packed among the games Clarke had found in Becca’s mansion, so they were able to combine two decks and play with all ten of them squeezed around the coffee table.

It took a few hands for everyone to get used to the game, but they were quickly having fun. Roan took an early lead after a couple of good hands, but then stalled for a while. Jasper went all in early and lost to Murphy, but was having too much fun watching everyone to pout too much about it. Murphy lost to his girlfriend, who was the only one shrewd enough to know when he was bluffing.

Unsurprisingly, Echo proved to be amazing at poker: _no one_ could read her. Monty was also good, but he couldn’t catch a decent hand that night.

An hour or so in, they were down to four players: Bellamy, who had sat back early and watched other players lose all of their chips before coming alive midway through the game; Clarke, who had been on the brink of going out several times, only to be saved by well-timed lucky hands; Echo, whose poker face remained her greatest weapon; and Raven, who had started strong but was getting sloppier as she lost patience.

Echo was the next to go out after a series of unlucky hands. Raven went all-in on a flush, but Clarke’s surprise full house knocked her out.

Finally, it was down to just Bellamy and Clarke. They sat across the table from each other. Jasper sat next to Clarke, trying to coach her, which she definitely didn’t need. Bellamy was happy that he had Echo on one side and Monty on the other – neither would distract him from playing these final hands.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Clarke suggested. Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Loser does the winner’s laundry for a month.”

“Deal.”

Their chips were almost even: Bellamy was up by a few but nothing significant. He drew a pair. He requested three cards from the dealer (Emori); Clarke only asked for one. With his new cards, he still only had a pair. He watched Clarke peek at her new fifth card and noticed the quick flash of disappointment in her eyes. _Maybe he was still in this_.

He made a strong bet, hoping to bluff her into dropping out. Clarke watched him, considering, before calling him.

She also only had a pair, but it was higher than his, so she won. He saw that she had been a near a flush, which was why she had been disappointed when the final card didn’t possess the correct suit.

The next hand went better for him, but it still felt like Clarke could read him somehow. Did he have a tell? He tried to school his facial expressions into neutrality. It wasn’t working: each time he drew a good hand, Clarke would fold, regardless of whether he went aggressive with his betting or not.

The group was getting more excited now, sensing that the end was coming. After a couple of losing hands, Bellamy knew that he had to go all-in soon if he hoped to regain the lead from Clarke. He resolved that he would do so on his next hand, no matter what it held. He could bluff her into turning over the lead.

He drew a crap hand – 2, 4, 6, 7, jack, with no matching suits or anything. Still, he gave the cards a smug smile and pushed his chips to the center of the table.

“All in,” he declared. He watched Clarke consider it carefully. She looked at her cards. She looked at him, biting her lip as she tried to read him. She looked a bit to the side, as if calculating her odds.

Finally, she called.

Bellamy asked the dealer for two cards (he had to maintain the illusion that he actually had something, for his own pride); Clarke asked for three. Bellamy’s new hand was a 3, 5, 7, 8, jack – still absolutely nothing.

Because he was all in, there was no second round of betting. Bellamy tossed down his hand. Clarke laid hers down as well. She also had nothing, but her high card was a king, which beat his jack.

She had won.

“How did she know I was bluffing? Why would she call such a high bet with a trash hand like that if she didn’t need to?” he asked to no one in particular. He was frustrated because it was more than that hand – it was like she had been able to read him for the last twenty minutes of the game. Suddenly, he realized that a few people around the circle were snickering. Clarke was smiling at Echo, who was sitting beside him but also a little behind him – positioned just right to…

“You cheaters!” Bellamy shouted, jumping up and pointing between Clarke and Echo.

Everyone burst into laughter and it took all of Bellamy’s energy to continue to look mad.

“You had a spy, Griffin!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Blake,” Clarke replied with a smirk that said the exact opposite.

Bellamy rounded on Echo. “I know you were telling her my cards.”

“You’re getting paranoid, Bellamy,” Echo told him, also smirking.

They went on like that, laughing and making fun of him until finally admitting that they had been working together since Echo had been eliminated.

“That means it was a tie at best. You should automatically lose for cheating,” Bellamy protested.

“No one likes a sore loser, Bellamy,” Emori (of all people) lectured him.

“Is everyone taking her side on this?”

No one spoke up.

“If anyone has anything that needs washing, I was planning to do laundry tomorrow,” Clarke announced. “Oh wait, I guess that means _Bellamy_ will be doing laundry tomorrow.”

Bellamy chased her around the bunker, lecturing her on how there was _no way_ he was doing everyone’s laundry, and that he shouldn’t even have to do _hers_ after she cheated like that. She led him from the living room to the kitchen, back through the living room and around the lounge, before finally ducking into their bedroom. He stayed right on her tail the whole time, continuing to protest.

Clarke called goodnight to everyone and shut the door to their room.

She looked at Bellamy’s disgruntled face and crossed arms and burst out laughing.

“You think this is so funny, don’t you?” he asked.

“I mean, that was pretty great.”

He was struggling not to smile and he could tell that she knew. He rolled his eyes and tossed a pillow at her.

“Yeah, yeah.”

She threw the pillow back at him and moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed, still laughing to herself.

Once she was gone, he let his smile break across his face. It was the most fun evening he could remember, even with the unexpected ending. He was surprised that Clarke had worked with Echo, but he liked the way it brought Echo into the larger group and he knew instantly that Clarke had done that intentionally. She was so sneaky that way.

He had been doing his best to peacefully coexist with Roan and Echo for the past two weeks. His grudges with Roan were less personal – he found it far easier to forgive a person who had held a sword to his own throat than one who had held one to his sister’s. He didn’t _like_ Roan, but he had found himself talking to the former prince about weapons and training for a good hour the other day, and he had to admit that he had enjoyed it.

Echo was a different story. They had far more history. Bellamy knew that she was just following orders when she led him away from Mount Weather, but he also knew that her actions had led directly to Gina’s death. He also knew that she hadn’t wanted to kill Octavia (and, as it turned out, hadn’t succeeded), but the fact remained that Echo had pushed her off a cliff, and that was something a big brother didn’t get over overnight. Not to mention her efforts to cheat in the Conclave. Bellamy had good reason to hold multiple grudges towards her.

In their first two weeks in the bunker, Echo had mostly kept to herself. She seemed to get along with Raven and she was very interested in Monty’s farming, so she spent a lot of time in the farm room with him. She avoided Bellamy when she could. She contributed to group discussions and offered suggestions when helpful, but Bellamy could tell she always did so with a look of slight fear in her eyes, as if she worried that her thoughts and ideas would be dismissed out of hand.

Most of the people in the bunker didn’t have the problems with Roan and Echo that he did. No one else (besides Clarke) had had their lives directly threatened by the two of them. Harper was actually trying to convince Roan and Echo to train with her and Bellamy found himself wanting to join in, in spite of his grudges.

Overall, Bellamy found himself happy that Roan and Echo were slowly finding their place among the other bunker residents and he resolved to try to be more welcoming to both of his former enemies in the weeks to come.

By the time Bellamy had processed all of his thoughts, Clarke was climbing into their bed. She looked at him and yawned.

“I actually don’t need my laundry done for a few days, so don’t worry about tomorrow,” she told him.

“I’m not doing your laundry. You cheated.”

“You never specified that I _couldn’t_ cheat.”

“That is not a thing anyone has to specify,” Bellamy shot back, incredulous.

“I’ll run it by Harper.”

“She’ll side with me.”

“Doubt it.”

“I’m not doing your laundry.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she told him, patting his arm before rolling over and falling asleep.

* * *

And that’s how, on Day 23, Bellamy found himself doing Clarke’s laundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this chapter from Bellamy’s POV. I might experiment with writing future chapters from different characters’ POVs too – we’ll see! I hustled like crazy to finish these three chapters over the last two weeks, so I’m going to take a little bit of a break, but I have so many ideas for this fic that I’m sure the next chapter will be up in a week or so. I expect most chapters to be around 5,000 words long.
> 
> Leave suggestions for plot points or shenanigans in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4, In which Clarke and Bellamy finally get some much-needed therapy. 
> 
> So every time I tried to write more of this fic, I just kept getting stuck on the bunker in Polis – it felt like I couldn’t write anything significant between Bellamy and Clarke without having them talk through that first. And as I was thinking about how to handle it, I was like “what they really need is a lot of therapy,” and then I had a hilarious idea for everyone in the bunker trying to play therapist. Please don’t take this as diminishing real therapy, which I am an ENORMOUS PROPONENT and frequent user of. I’m just trying to have the characters do the best they can with the tools that they have. And I tried to include some humor along the way because that’s my vibe. 
> 
> We start with a fun Jasper shenanigan, though, and I hope you catch the shade I briefly throw at that joke of a series finale. Gag. Anyway, enjoy! Thanks for the comments and kudos!
> 
> One more thing – the perspective changes during this chapter, but I think it’s still easy to follow. It just felt like the easiest way to write it. You’ll see what I mean.

**Day 26**

“Peanut butter blast is by far the superior flavor,” Raven declared as everyone dug into their afternoon ration-packs.

“No way – it’s chocolate crunch or nothing,” Clarke shot back. Echo nodded in agreement.

“Coconut crisp is the way to go,” Roan announced. Everyone else shot him a look of disgust.

“That is literally the _worst_ flavor,” said Emori. “Even the very cherry berry ones are better than those.”

“And the very cherry berry ones are _disgusting_ ,” Raven agreed.

“I don’t see why they need to have flavors at all,” grumbled Bellamy. Everyone immediately started making fun of him for this, calling him out as a grumpy old man. Murphy crumbled up his wrapper and threw it at him (but missed).

“You know what would be good?” Clarke began, “If they took the peanut butter filling out of the peanut butter blast ones and-”

“BETRAYAL!” Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by Jasper storming into the living room, carrying a guitar. “Betrayal! Traitors, all of you!”

Monty and Echo emerged from the farm room at the sound of Jasper’s shout and soon all ten of them were gathered in the living room.

“Oh no, where did he find it?” Monty asked, catching sight of the guitar.

“You were in on it too? BETRAYAL!”

“I hid it under our bed,” Bellamy told everyone. “Why were you even in there?”

“I was borrowing that book you were telling me about, but it wasn’t on your dresser like you said, so I was looking for it,” Jasper explained.

“I told you it was on _Clarke’s_ dresser.”

“Well I was looking for it and I found THIS!” he shouted again, waving the guitar. “Betrayal!”

* * *

So, here was the thing.

Monty had found a guitar in his closet when he went to put his new clothes away during their first full day in the bunker. He brought it out on Day 3 and Jasper immediately claimed it.

Jasper had then tried to play said guitar. It was, obviously, _very_ out of tune.

Jasper set out to rectify that by tuning the guitar, something he claimed he knew how to do. He did not, in fact, know how to do it. If it was possible, his attempts made the guitar sound even _worse_.

Then, Jasper proceeded to play that guitar, _loudly_ , all afternoon and evening. And of course he had to sing along with it.

All of this was made worse by how much alcohol he had consumed that day.

* * *

**Flashback: Day 3, evening**

“Is he asleep?” Emori asked.

“Yes, finally,” Raven told everyone.

“We need to hide the rest of the liquor. That was obnoxious,” Bellamy said. Everyone agreed with him.

“He was so drunk that he was trying to tell me about something called ‘transcendence,’ and claimed that we were all going to turn into weird eternal beams of light,” said Harper.

“Sounds fucking bizarre,” Bellamy replied.

“Well, everyone except Clarke,” Harper continued with a chuckle. “Apparently she is the only one not allowed to transcend.”

“That tracks,” Clarke muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Anyway, can we get back to the real problem?” Roan asked, cutting off their conversation about Jasper’s drunken, nonsensical, completely absurd, incredibly dissatisfying and inconsistent ramblings that had nothing to do with anything and would never ever make any sense to any logical human.

“Yeah, we have to talk about this guitar,” Emori agreed. “We could spend all night talking about how his theories of ‘transcendence’ came out of nowhere, made no sense, didn’t fit in our established universe, and represented the most inane, pessimistic view for the fate of humanity, but really, let’s get back to talking about this GUITAR. My head is pounding. I can’t take another hour of that, let alone five more years.”

“We could break it? Pretend it was an accident?” Murphy suggested.

“I don’t want to break it,” Raven protested, and several agreed with her. “It might be the last real guitar on earth, or at least one of the last ones. It would be so hard to make one from scratch.”

“We could just ban him from playing it,” Echo suggested, but everyone agreed that that would be hard to enforce it.

“We have to hide it,” Clarke announced finally.

“But he’ll just keep looking for it – and there aren’t many hiding places in this bunker,” Harper pointed out.

“We have to act like it never existed and just convince him it was a dream,” Monty suggested.

Everyone rolled their eyes at that.

“There’s no way you’ll be able to convince him that he just *dreamed* that he had a guitar,” said Raven.

“Want to bet?” Monty shot back. “You have no idea how many things I’ve convinced him were only dreams. One time on the Ark he asked a girl to dance and she said no and the next day I convinced him that it had never happened and he had just dreamed it. Did the same thing when I ate the last pot brownie after promising it to him. It’s easier than you think.”

“It might be the best shot we have,” Clarke agreed. “But if we do this, we all have to do it together. There is no guitar in this bunker. There never was a guitar. None of us have seen or heard Jasper with a guitar.”

All nine of them nodded their heads firmly.

“And where do we hide it?” Raven asked.

“I’ll keep it in my room,” Roan offered. “He never goes in there.”

Everyone agreed.

As Monty had predicted, Jasper did take the “it was just a dream” news quite easily. It left Clarke actually concerned about what went on his dreams that he was so quick to believe this.

“Where’s my guitar?” he asked the next day, looking around.

“Guitar?” Harper asked innocently, sorting through the box she was unpacking.

“You know, the guitar I was playing yesterday. I had a sick idea for a new song.”

Harper furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She looked across the room at Murphy, Emori, and Bellamy.

“Do you guys know what he’s talking about?”

“Nope,” Murphy easily lied. Emori maintained a similar poker face.

Bellamy was a fucking wreck.

It turned out that Bellamy Blake was really, really, _really_ bad at lying. How he kept Octavia a secret for all of those years, the world may never know.

He started to shift from foot to foot and his hand was running constantly through his hair. “Nope, never saw a guitar before,” he added in a panicked voice, and Murphy rolled his eyes.

Luckily, Raven darted out and claimed she needed Bellamy’s help with something and he was all too quick to join her in the dining room, only tripping twice in his haste to get away.

Everyone else confirmed that they had never seen a guitar in the bunker and they kept Bellamy away from Jasper for the rest of the day.

“Huh,” Jasper concluded finally. “It seemed so real. My fingers are even a little sore.”

“You must have been drumming them on your bedframe when you were asleep,” Raven suggested.

“Maybe,” Jasper thought out loud.

Harper shot Raven a skeptical look, but Raven just quirked an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulder.

“Anyway, if we ever do find a guitar, I’ve got a killer song for it,” Jasper finally announced, heading off to continue teaching himself to play pool. (He was also terrible at that, but at least that was quieter.)

They all thought they were in the clear, and the peace lasted for a few days.

As it turned out, though, a guitar was a rather large object to hide.

The problem started when Jasper went looking for Roan for help with the weight machine. Roan and Echo were both in their room, Roan reading a book and Echo carefully reading the instructions for a complicated board game (not trying to cheat… just trying to learn the rules and any potential loopholes really, _really_ well). 

Jasper knocked and, without thinking, Roan called “come in,” not even looking up from his book. As soon as Jasper entered their room, however, Echo and Roan realized that Roan had left the closet open and the edge of the guitar was visible.

Echo had been forced to _hug_ Jasper, feigning another bunker-inspired meltdown, to distract him while Roan snuck the guitar out of the room. It was, perhaps, her greatest sacrifice for the people in that bunker.

Roan had wedged it into the laundry room, where it stayed for a few days until Raven heard Jasper talking about wanting to wash his clothes after running through all of his socks. She had quickly communicated this to Harper, who had smuggled the guitar out of the laundry room under a towel and into the farm room.

That was always a precarious place to hide it, considering how often Jasper helped out with the plants, so at their first opportunity they moved it again. Harper was carrying it out of the farm room just as Jasper rounded the corner, but luckily Murphy pretended to trip and took Jasper down with him before he could see it. Harper ran across the kitchen to the dining room and stashed it behind the door there.

The problem, as Harper had first pointed out, was that there weren’t many hiding places in the bunker. They moved the guitar between closets, nooks, and the spaces behind dressers and under beds. They had all felt safe moving it under Bellamy and Clarke’s bed a week ago, but here they were.

And that brought them to the present moment.

* * *

“Betrayal!” Jasper shouted for the fifth time.

“We hear you! Stop shouting,” Roan complained.

“Why was this under Bellamy’s bed? Why did you all say that I had only dreamed up the guitar?”

“I told you we should have broken it,” Murphy contributed bitterly.

“Jasper,” Harper began, going for a soft tone, “we didn’t want to lie to you. It’s just that you were playing it all night and it was kind of driving us crazy.”

“I need to practice if I’m going to get better! I’m going to be amazing at this!”

Roan snorted, but tried to hide it as a cough when Jasper spun to glare at him.

Jasper now turned his glare on the collective and loudly strummed the severely-out-of-tune strings. Everyone grimaced and several clutched their ears.

“Ok, new rule,” Harper announced. “Jasper can play guitar, but only in his bedroom with the door closed, and he needs to try to play quietly as often as possible.”

She called for a vote. Every hand but Jasper’s went in the air. He looked around, defiantly, knowing the vote had to be unanimous.

Murphy mimed breaking the guitar over his knee.

“Fine!” Jasper shouted, “but you’ll all regret this someday. Someday I’ll be a rockstar and you’ll all regret how you confined me to play in my dark room all alone.”

“You do know your room has lights, right?” Emori asked.

“How would you even be a rockstar on a barely survivable planet with no performance technology?” Raven pressed.

“Don’t you have to have talent to be a rockstar?” Murphy called out.

Jasper waved away their questions and stalked to his room, slamming the door.

There was a momentary pause.

“So if they took the peanut butter part,” Clarke continued.

* * *

A couple of days later, Clarke and Raven were sitting on the couch in the living room, looking wistfully at a sketch Clarke had made of Octavia.

“Bellamy will love this – you have to show it to him,” Raven told her.

Clarke nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Let me guess – you two are avoiding each other again.”

Clarke leaned her head back with her eyes closed, her exhaustion confirming Raven’s suspicion.

“Who tried to initiate the conversation this time?” Raven asked.

“I did. And it was a disaster. Maybe the worst attempt so far.”

“You two are usually go good at talking about everything. You’ve forgiven each other time and time again. What’s different about this one?” Raven asked.

“I don’t know,” Clarke replied, rubbing her temples. Raven was right that this one felt different. Over the last few weeks, both Bellamy and Clarke had tried to initiate a conversation about what had happened in the Second Dawn bunker at least a dozen times, but in every attempt they both seemed to freeze, unsure of where to start or what to say.

Monty wandered by, catching a bit of their conversation.

“They still haven’t talked about it?” he asked. Emori heard his question and wandered over as well.

Clarke rolled her eyes at the growing crowd. “Does everyone know?”

“Obviously,” Monty replied. Clarke groaned.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Emori added. Raven agreed and Clarke tried to tune them out as they talked about how awkward she and Bellamy were as if she wasn’t sitting _right there_.

“What if they tried talking about it to other people first?” Emori suggested.

“I’m right here!” Clarke protested, but they continued ignoring her.

“That could work,” Monty suggested. “Give them little practice sessions.”

“I like that idea. Should we get everyone else on board?” Raven asked.

“Do I get any say in this at all?” Clarke asked. Raven shushed her and continued to make plans with Emori and Monty to involve the rest of their bunker-mates.

Clarke got up and walked to her room, glaring at them before going in and closing the door. If they were going to pretend like she wasn’t even there, then she was going to leave.

She turned around and found Bellamy sitting on their bed with one of Becca’s laptops. She remembered, now, that he had come in here earlier to pout because nobody would watch one of the documentaries they found on the video discs with him. He had suggested documentaries for movie night for the last few nights, but had been shot down each time. Finally, Raven had told him that the laptops could also play the video discs and he had pointedly borrowed one this morning, scowling at everyone as he retreated to his room.

“Come to learn about the fall of the Roman Empire?” he asked Clarke hopefully.

“Not a chance,” Clarke replied. “I’m here because our friends think we’re bad at talking to each other about what happened in Polis and are making plans to make us practice with them.”

Bellamy paused the show and furrowed his eyebrows. “We’re not bad at… well, I guess we could maybe use some help with this one.” He rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly.

Clarke avoided making eye contact.

“We could just try talking about it on our own one more time?” she suggested timidly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Bellamy nodded. They sat there for a few minutes. They each had a few false starts where they started to talk, but couldn’t get the words out.

“The thing is…”

“I just…”

“That day, I…”

“What you have to understand is…”

“Ok, we might be bad at this,” Clarke finally concluded.

“So we practice and then reconvene?”

“Deal.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch any of the doc? We’re just getting to the Plague of Cyprian!”

“I’m locked in an underground bunker and I’m _still_ not that bored,” Clarke replied, grabbing her exercise clothes and heading to the bathroom to change before starting her shift on the treadmill.

* * *

The next morning, Clarke sat down with Raven in the dining room. Raven had a notebook out and a pen. Clarke thought she was perhaps taking this a little too seriously.

“So walk me through what happened at the bunker,” Raven started, reminding Clarke that she hadn’t been there. 

Clarke thought for a moment, trying to decide where to start. She briefly touched on the discovery of the bunker and its capacity.

“So it could hold all of Arkadia,” she told Raven.

“But no one else?”

“Well, there was still a little more room, but the only way to ensure that all of our people survived was to take it during the Conclave.”

“Because you didn’t think Octavia could win.”

“I didn’t think Octavia could win,” Clarke conceded with a guilty look. “But it was more than that – if Luna had won, she wasn’t going to let _anyone_ into the bunker, so the human race would have been doomed. And if any of the other clans had won, they wouldn’t have known how to run the hydrofarm or use the technology, so they wouldn’t have been able to make it long either.”

Raven gave her a skeptical look.

“Ok, so _maybe_ we could have given them a brief training, or maybe they would have let a few Arkadians stay to show them the ropes,” Clarke conceded again.

“But instead of risking it, you decided to just take the bunker,” Raven prodded. Clarke nodded.

“And you brought in Bellamy because…”

“Because we could – we were trying to grab as many Arkadians as we could and we had the chance to save him. We couldn’t get to Kane. We didn’t expect Octavia to survive the Concave, honestly.”

“How did you convince him to go along with your plan?”

There was a moment’s pause.

“You didn’t hear this part?” Clarke asked. Raven shook her head, confused.

Clarke looked at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact.

“We maybe brought him in against his will and then handcuffed him to a pipe when he wanted to leave.”

Raven was silent and Clarke stole a glance at her, biting her lip.

“Clarke Griffin, that is…”

“You don’t have to tell me, Raven. I’m not proud of it.”

“How could you even-”

“I thought I was saving the human race!”

“If you were so confident in that justification, why didn’t you trust Bellamy enough to talk it over with him?”

“It’s not that I didn’t _trust_ him,”

“That’s _exactly_ what it is,” Raven shot back. “You didn’t trust him to agree with you so you took away his freedom to make his own choices.”

Clarke was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. I was so focused on feeling bad for the physical things I did, including the handcuffing and pointing a gun at him that I didn’t think about the big picture.”

Now Raven paused for a moment.

“You always trust him, more than anyone. What changed that day?”

“I don’t know, but I think that’s a thing I need to think through.”

* * *

Bellamy decided to start with Monty. He picked a time when Monty was working alone in the farm room and slipped in, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Why do I have the feeling that this is not about monitoring the soil acidity of the strawberry plants?” Monty asked with a smirk.

Bellamy tried to start talking a couple of times, but felt the words getting stuck. “Nevermind,” he finally concluded. “This was dumb. I’ll just figure it out.”

Monty caught him before he could leave.

“It’s not dumb,” he assured him. “It’s something you need to think through and process, and you should turn to your friends for help.”

Bellamy conceded and sunk into one of the few chairs they had scattered around the room.

“So you’re mad at Clarke,” Monty started.

“See, that’s the weird thing. I feel like I’m mad at her, but I also get her reasoning. I’ve also made tough choices – and wrong choices – to protect my people. I can’t figure out why this one is sticking with me so long. Maybe it’s because it potentially affected Octavia?”

“But you forgave Clarke for TonDC,” Monty argued.

“True, though I don’t know if ‘forgave’ is the right word – more like ‘was too busy to be angry at her properly.’”

Monty conceded that that was fair.

“I think it’s about more than Octavia, though,” Monty prodded. Bellamy looked away. “How did you feel when you woke up in the bunker?”

Bellamy was quiet for a moment, remembering.

“Hopeful, initially. I thought that meant that everything was settled, that we were safe.”

“And when you learned the truth?”

“Furious. And Panicked. Had to get to O.”

“And when you couldn’t get to O?”

“I felt like an animal in a cage. I felt powerless and helpless – I think that’s what broke me.”

“How did it feel when Clarke pointed the gun at you?”

“You know what’s weird? That was absolutely not the worst part of that whole thing. I remember still feeling so good in that moment because I was so close to the door. My only focus was on getting her to shoot me somewhere that wouldn’t keep me from opening the door.”

“So you would have been fine with Clarke _shooting_ you, so long as she didn’t keep you from fulfilling your plan?”

Bellamy was quiet for a minute.

“Weirdly yes. I was far angrier at her for chaining me to the pipe than I was for pointing the gun at me.”

“So think about what you’re really angry about, then,” Monty pushed.

“I think I’m most mad,” Bellamy said, considering, “about her taking away my choice and just forcing me to go along with her logic.”

Monty nodded in agreement. He waited another minute, but Bellamy was lost in his thoughts, going over everything in his mind. Monty got up and went back to the plants, a small smile on his face.

* * *

Clarke and Roan chatted over a game of darts after lunch. Roan was naturally good at darts; Clarke was a work-in-progress.

Clarke explained what she had talked about with Raven that morning.

“So I think the worst thing I did that day was to not trust Bellamy and not take the time to explain my reasoning to him.”

Roan paused for a moment.

“You really think that was the _worst_ thing you did that day?”

“Well, I mean, pointing the gun at him was also pretty shitty.”

Roan glared at her. “You’re unbelievable, Princess.”

“What?” Clarke asked, confused.

“The worst thing you did that day was making the decision to take the bunker and trying to seal out everyone who wasn’t part of your tribe.”

“But that’s not what Bellamy’s mad about.”

“First of all,” Roan began, “you don’t know that. And second of all, if your only regret from that day is because Bellamy’s mad at you, then you’re not the person I thought you were. That sounds like _wanheda_ talking.”

Clarke was quiet for a moment, collecting her darts and returning to their throwing line.

“I thought you were going to die,” she told him quietly, “and then I thought you were dead when the conclave ended.”

“Would you have opened the door to me if you knew I was alive?”

Clarke was quiet. They both knew the answer.

“I think you need to come to terms not only with the fact that Bellamy’s mad at you for the choice you made, but also that it was a really shitty choice in general,” Roan finally said. He threw his dart and it landed in a perfect bullseye, punctuating his point.

Clarke swallowed. She cast her dart wide and it missed the board entirely, sticking in the wall a few inches away.

It was clear that that wasn’t the only mark she had missed.

* * *

Bellamy appreciated his conversation with Monty, and he knew he had to talk to the others, but he was having trouble timing it. His next thought was to talk to Raven, but she was holed up with Jasper and Emori all morning, looking at tech. He thought about Harper, but she and Monty were having some “alone time” that he really didn’t want to think more about. He walked by the gym late in the afternoon and saw Murphy on the treadmill with Echo supervising. Murphy had the treadmill on the lowest setting and was walking so slowly and dramatically that it reminded Bellamy of that video of the first moon landing that he watched in school.

Echo stood next to the treadmill, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. It was clear that Murphy was doing this to spite her.

Murphy let out a dramatic cough and Echo rolled her eyes.

Without overthinking it, Bellamy decided to approach them next. He’d be able to kill two birds with one stone this way, really.

“Here he comes,” Murphy announced when Bellamy came into view. Echo looked over her shoulder and greeted him with a cool nod before turning back to Murphy. She leaned over and turned up the speed on the treadmill. He glared at her and turned it back down.

“Ready to talk through your relationship problems?” Murphy asked with a smirk.

“It’s not ‘relationship problems,’” Bellamy protested, “but yes, against my better judgment, I am here to talk through what happened in the bunker with you.”

Bellamy explained what he had talked through with Monty and how he was starting to suspect that what he was angriest about was the fact that Clarke didn’t trust him enough to give him a choice.

“I think the solution is easy,” Murphy announced. “You two need to fuck it out of your system.”

Bellamy’s face went totally red and he sputtered out a cough in shock.

“We need to do what now?”

“You heard me. I’m sure you two have already had plenty of sex, but I think angry sex will really help you guys through this.”

“Clarke and I are not having sex.”

Bellamy heard a snort behind him and turned to find Echo holding in a laugh.

Bellamy glared at her.

“What?” she asked, “You can’t honestly expect us to believe you’re not sleeping together.”

“We’re not sleeping together!”

“Come on, Bellamy,” Murphy pushed, “we’ve all watched the sexual tension between you two develop since she warned you the air on Earth could be toxic. Don’t bullshit us.”

“I’m not! We’re not sleeping together!”

“Well there’s your problem,” Murphy told him. “No wonder you guys can’t move past this.”

Bellamy turned to Echo, hoping for an ally.

“He’s not wrong,” she offered simply.

Bellamy growled and stomped away. It was his own fault, really, trying to go to Murphy and Echo for advice.

* * *

Clarke was feeling good after talking to Raven and Roan. Ok, she wasn’t feeling _good_ , since both conversations largely focused on her being a shitty leader and maybe even a shitty human, but she was starting to feel like she was making progress.

Her next stop was Jasper. She found him in his room playing his (still very out-of-tune) guitar after dinner.

“Ooo is it my turn now?” he asked, excitedly.

“Looks like it.”

Clarke caught him up on everything that had happened in the bunker and her conversations with Raven and Roan.

“So I’m starting to think through how my actions affected him, but also how he might be mad for the things I did that didn’t even affect him,” she summarized.

Jasper strummed a chord. At least, it was what he thought was a chord. It really wasn’t.

“Because, you know, he can be mad at me for more than just the things I did to him,” Clarke continued.

_Strum_.

“And I shouldn’t just assume to know what he’s thinking…”

_Strum_

“Though it would be easier if he would just tell me…”

_Strum_

“JASPER FUCKING JORDAN STOP STRUMMING THAT STUPID FUCKING GUITAR AND LISTEN TO ME FOR ONE GODDAMN MINUTE!” Clarke bellowed, finally snapping.

Jasper looked at her, but didn’t react the way Clarke expected him to.

“Here’s my song for you, Clarke,” he announced calmly.

He proceeded to strum his “chords” and sang out the verses, with no particularly consistent melody.

_Clarke Griffin is feeling bad_

_But only because she made someone mad_

_And she claims her moves are only shitty_

_Because she’s trying to save humanity_

“That barely rhymed,” Clarke interjected.

_But the thing that scares her to no end_

_Is the idea that maybe what she’s shittiest at…. Is being a friend_.

Jasper drew out the last line, staring her down.

Clarke scowled and headed for the door.

She was annoyed at him for not listening to her and for playing his stupid, annoying, terrible-sounding guitar.

She was annoyed at him for not taking this seriously and for always jumping down her throat.

She was annoyed at him for never acknowledging the circumstances she was in when she made these tough choices – tough choices that had saved his own fucking life more than once.

But, deep down, the thing that annoyed her most was knowing that he was right.

* * *

That night, Clarke and Bellamy lay awkwardly in their bed, both staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

“So I talked to a few people today,” Bellamy started.

“I did too.”

“Some were more helpful than others.”

Clarke snorted. “Same.”

There was a pause.

“I think it’s helping, though,” Bellamy said softly.

“I do too.”

Bellamy thought Clarke was asleep, but a few minutes later, he heard her voice again.

“I saw you head to the gym to talk to Murphy. Was he helpful?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Clarke laughed again.

“What did he say?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

Clarke rolled over to face him.

“Well you have to tell me now.” Bellamy protested for a few more minutes, but after endless prodding from Clarke, he finally broke.

“He told me we needed to fuck it out of our systems,” he spit out.

He expected Clarke to be offended, angry, or, at the very least, flustered. Instead, she just laughed long and hard.

“Well that will be our backup plan,” she told Bellamy with a wink and a yawn before rolling over and finally going to sleep.

Bellamy choked out a laugh in response and filed her reaction away to be obsessed over at a later date. One thing at a time.

* * *

Hoping to reset after his disastrous conversation with Murphy, Bellamy started the next day with Raven. She was taking apart a cable and sorting through the wires it contained, but Bellamy could tell it wasn’t an urgent task and she was able to still devote care and attention to what he was saying.

Bellamy caught her up on what he had covered with Monty and his growing awareness that his anger was over the fact that Clarke took away his choice. He decided not to go into detail about his conversation in the gym.

“That makes sense,” Raven agreed. “I would have lost my mind too if she chained me to a pipe.”

“It felt like the ultimate betrayal.”

Raven paused for a moment, looking at her wire.

“What about the time you handcuffed her and tried to turn her into Pike in Arkadia?

“That was totally different, Raven,” Bellamy immediately shot back.

“How?”

“That was for her protection. And the protection of our people.”

“And this wasn’t?” Raven asked.

“Yeah… but-”

“And you know that you were on the wrong side of that one, just as we all, including Clarke, agree she was on the wrong side of this one.”

“Yes, but we… it was… but that time… it was totally different,” Bellamy concluded, and Raven could tell he didn’t totally believe it.

Raven handled him a stretch of cable and some pliers.

“It’s good work to do while you think,” she explained softly.

Bellamy hesitated, but finally pressed his lips into a thin line and accepted the tool.

* * *

“So I think I have a good handle on why he’s mad at me now, or at least some of the reasons,” Clarke explained to Monty. They were walking (at a normal pace, unlike Murphy) on the treadmills. Clarke had just caught him up on her various other conversations.

“I think, for Bellamy, it’s a big deal that you didn’t trust him enough to talk to him about your decision before you made it,” Monty told her.

Clarke nodded.

“So that’s where I would start the apology,” Monty continued.

Clarke nodded again.

“It will mean a lot to him to hear that you wish you had talked to him about it before making any decisions.”

Clarke nodded again.

Then, suddenly, she stopped nodding.

“Wait a minute,” she said. She cut off the treadmill and stood in place, her hands on his hips.

“What is it?” Monty asked, continuing with his exercise.

“I think _I’m_ mad at _him_ now.”

“Oh, here we go,” Monty announced, rolling his eyes. He had agreed to this whole “practice talks” thing when Raven had suggested it, but this was getting exhausting. He had already talked to Bellamy twice.

“Yes!” Clarke announced, starting her treadmill again. “I’m mad at him! Part of the reason I didn’t talk to him about it was because he makes it so damn hard to talk to him about plans! He gets that… you know… that thing where he can only focus on what he wants to focus on and he can’t hear any other viewpoints?”

“Tunnel vision?”

“Yes! Tunnel vision! Bellamy gets tunnel vision and it’s difficult to talk to him.”

Monty snorted. Clarke looked at him.

“A little bit of pot and kettle there, Griffin.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine, I suppose that’s fair. But, still, I think I’ve been focusing so much energy on why he’s mad at me that I didn’t stop to think that I’m still harboring a bit of resentment too.” Monty said nothing, but he did think that that was a valid feeling to have.

“This is good,” Clarke said, mainly talking to herself at this point. She continued to mutter under her breath and turned the speed on the treadmill up. Monty eyed her warily.

“It’s all making sense now,” he heard her say under her breath as she started to jog.

“Well, look at that, my thirty minutes are up,” Monty said, backing away as quickly as he could.

The muttering continued after he had left the gym.

* * *

The next day was Tuesday, which meant everyone was cleaning the public spaces in the bunker. Clarke, Roan, and Emori were working in the gym. Murphy, Raven, and Echo were taking on the living room (Raven was maybe a little obsessed with the vacuum cleaner). Harper and Bellamy were assigned the kitchen and dining room. Monty and Jasper were, of course, working in the farm room.

Bellamy liked working with Harper. She always had a positive attitude and very seldom complained, but she also wasn’t one of those annoying overly cheerful people.

“So how have your talks with everyone been going?” Harper asked him, with only a slight bit of teasing in her voice.

“Alright,” Bellamy replied, “though Murphy was pretty useless.”

“Well I could have told you to skip that one.”

“I think the biggest thing that I’ve realized is that my anger with Clarke stems from more than just the fact that she was willing to lock Octavia outside. I really don’t think it was about Octavia at all.”

Harper paused from where she was wiping down the stovetop.

“Not at all?” she pressed.

“Nope. It was all about Clarke’s refusal to trust me or give me the choice to stay or go.”

“And you weren’t angry at all that she was willing to let your sister die.”

Bellamy paused, considering.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“And the fact that she had zero confidence in Octavia in the Conclave.”

“Well, everyone knew she was the underdog.”

“Bellamy, you know it’s possible to be mad about more than one thing, right?”

Bellamy rested his forehead on the countertop after a long moment. “But that’s so much work,” he groaned.

“There, there,” Harper told him, patting his shoulder and trying not to laugh.

* * *

Bellamy and Clarke spent the rest of the week continuing their conversations with everyone. At first, their friends were eager and happy to help. Echo lectured Clarke about loyalty for at least twenty minutes. Clarke thought that was a bit rich coming from Echo, who had betrayed Bellamy far more often and more severely than Clarke ever had, but Echo had never claimed to be his friend, so she guessed that was fair. Bellamy talked to Emori, who helped him see that in addition to being mad about more than one thing, he could also feel more than _mad_ – he could feel hurt too. Bellamy found her advice far more useful than her boyfriend’s, but when he told her that, she told him she actually agreed with Murphy’s advice too.

As the week went on, though, everyone except for Bellamy and Clarke started to tire of the conversations. Raven, Monty, and Harper felt especially taxed, since Bellamy and Clarke apparently considered them the best listeners and advice-givers in the bunker and showed their appreciation by reaching out to them constantly. Echo was all set after one brief interaction with each of them. Emori tried to be patient, but after Clarke stopped by her room for the third time, she started to make up excuses to leave.

Indeed, by Friday Clarke was becoming increasingly convinced that her friends were deliberately avoiding her. Jasper was on the treadmill when she came to the gym, but quickly hopped off and claimed he twisted his ankle. Roan and Raven were working on a puzzle together, but both suddenly needed naps when Clarke approached. Monty claimed that the farm room needed absolute silence and Harper and Murphy both suspiciously started putting in many more hours with the plants. Murphy walked around with headphones in his ears plugged into the ipod that Clarke knew for a FACT still wasn’t working. Echo just walked away when she tried to talk to her.

Finally, it was Saturday night, and the group was supposed to be playing board games. As it stood, though, only Clarke and Bellamy were in the living room. Raven opened her door, saw the two of them, then quickly shuffled back and closed it. Clarke saw Murphy poke his head around the corner, heard him mutter “shit, it’s the two of them again,” and disappear back into his room.

Clarke looked at Bellamy and rolled her eyes.

“Ok, everyone, we get it!” she shouted. “Consider your therapy obligations fulfilled.”

“Oh thank God,” Roan announced, coming out of his room, followed quickly by Echo, who still looked wary. She was still remembering how awkwardly Bellamy had tried to talk to her while she was swimming the previous day.

“Is the nightmare really over?” Jasper asked, emerging from his room. Raven peeked behind him and joined them all in the living room.

“Oh, come on, we’re not that bad,” Bellamy protested, “and you all volunteered for this.”

“That was before we knew what emotional shitfaces you both were,” Murphy replied, coming around the corner with Emori.

Monty and Harper joined them and soon all ten were gathered on the couches.

“So I take it everyone’s all talked out?” Clarke asked.

“Yes,” said Raven, speaking for everyone, “and we know for a fact that you’ve only been using us the last couple of days to procrastinate on talking to each other. You haven’t even had anything new to say.”

Clarke went to protest, but knew that was true. She had tried every excuse in the book to put off talking to Bellamy, but clearly her friends had caught on.

“Go,” Roan told them, pointing to their room.

“But,” Bellamy protested.

“Go!” the whole group shouted as one.

“Fine,” Clarke fired back, walking to her door.

“Don’t forget my advice,” Murphy told Bellamy with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Seconded!” shouted Emori.

“All in favor?” Harper shouted, and everyone raised their hands.

Bellamy was glad Clarke was already in their room and missed this part. He flipped everyone off before going into their room and shutting the door.

“That was the longest week of my life,” Monty announced, throwing himself down on the sofa.

“They are _exhausting_ ,” Raven agreed.

“And walking disasters,” Murphy put out there.

“How do you think it’s going in there?” Echo asked with a smirk, nodding toward their room.

“They’ll probably just ignore it altogether and start talking non-existent-war strategies,” Emori suggested, making everyone laugh.

“Ooo, I wrote a new song for everyone!” Jasper proclaimed, grabbing his guitar and ignoring everyone’s groans. He strummed the (still-out-of-tune) strings, making everyone grimace, before starting his new verse.

_Oh Bellamy and Clarke_

_Were very in the dark_

_As to why they were mad_

_And saaaaaaaaad_

_But they turned to their friends_

_And the story ends_

_With a day that isn’t so baaaaaaaaad_

Murphy mimed vomiting, Emori held pillows to her ears, but Raven leaned back with her arms behind her head and offered a “that one actually wasn’t terrible.”

Japer beamed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Bellamy closed the door to their room and looked at Clarke.

“Can I go first?” he asked hesitantly. Clarke nodded. He took a deep breath.

“I am mad at you for not trusting me with your plan to secure the bunker for our people. I am mad at you for not trusting Octavia to win the conclave. I am mad at you for taking away my choice and forcing me to go along with your plans. I understand the motivation behind your decisions. I acknowledge that it is very similar to the mistakes I made, that I never apologized for. I am sorry for those mistakes and for not trusting you. I trust that you acted in good faith and were doing what you thought was best for our people and for me, but I am still hurt that you did not have faith in me and were willing to sacrifice my sister and our friendship to accomplish your goal.” (He might have been practicing this for a couple of days)

Clarke nodded and swallowed.

“You are right to be hurt by the things that I did. It was wrong of me to try to take the bunker. It was wrong of me to sacrifice Octavia. It was wrong of me to not trust you with my decision-making process and to not talk to you about the choices I was making. I regret those choices now and I think I knew, deep down, that they were wrong then - I think that's why I didn't talk to you about them. I appreciate your apology for your previous mistakes. I admit that I sometimes find it hard to talk to you about things because you sometimes get tunnel vision and it feels like I can't get you to listen to me, but I didn’t even try to talk to you about this, and I should have. I’m sorry.” (Maybe she had practiced too.)

“I forgive you, and I’m sorry I’m hard to talk to sometimes.”

“I forgive you for that, and I’ll try harder.”

Rehearsed and overly polished speeches completed, Bellamy pulled Clarke into his arms. She tucked her head into her favorite space between his neck and shoulder. They both felt the weight of the previous month and a half fall slowly from their shoulders.

“I can’t believe they thought we would be bad at this,” Bellamy scoffed.

“Yeah, those idiots,” Clarke agreed, not yet pulling out of his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how this chapter turned out, but I will admit that it was EXHAUSTING to write. I’m going to keep the next one lighter. Remember to leave me ideas for fun shenanigans in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hearing lots of calls for more Murphy, so I tried to deliver in this chapter! He’s such a great character – I’ll keep trying to think of more funny things to do with him. Also, I’m starting the Bellarke climb in this chapter. Enjoy!

Day 52

After Bellamy and Clarke cleared the air regarding what had happened in Polis, the whole Lighthouse Bunker felt lighter (no pun intended). No more awkward tension lingered in the air (unless you counted Jasper’s continued ire and suspicion every time his guitar disappeared…which it did… a lot…) and their friends even stopped avoiding Bellamy and Clarke a few days after they talked things out, relieved that their temporary duties as therapists had been fulfilled.

Yes, things were peaceful once more, but they were also rather… boring. The days started to blend together with nothing to do. Clarke sketched and worked on getting better at darts. Echo worked out and nagged others to do the same. Monty and Jasper farmed. On Day 48, they found potato seeds, which was the most exciting thing that had happened in the bunker in weeks. Everyone was pretty excited about it for a minute, because potatoes would be great, but the excitement passed quickly because, well, they were potato seeds. 

You can only get so excited about potato seeds.

Harper checked in with everyone and worked on developing systems to keep them all sane and healthy. Raven tinkered (and tinkered and tinkered and tinkered). Bellamy slowly worked his way through the bunker library. Roan and Emori floated between activities, more focused on getting to know their bunker-mates than on really accomplishing anything.

And then there was Murphy. While everyone dealt with boredom in their own ways, Murphy dealt with it by annoying the everliving shit out of everyone else in the bunker. He learned quickly that he needed to annoy more than just Emori (or else he ended up sleeping on the couch), so he typically left her alone in favor of pestering the others. He intentionally slacked at the gym to make Echo’s jaw twitch. He popped into the farm room unannounced and poked at things until Monty kicked him out. He followed Harper, Bellamy, and Roan around in turns, adding commentary to their daily activities and generally driving him nuts. He couldn’t come near Raven, though, because she saw through his act a mile away and refused to take part in it.

Today, on Day 52, he set his sights on Clarke. She was sitting on a sofa in the living room, sketching ( _again_ ).

“Whacha doing?” he asked casually, climbing over the back of the sofa to sit next to her. He realized he was sitting a polite distance away, and that wouldn’t do, so he scooted closer to her. The annoyed look on her face at his proximity told him that had been a good move.

“Beat it, Murphy.”

“Oh my gosh is that a sketch? I had no idea you drew!”

Clarke’s head whipped around and a smile appeared as she began to tell the story of learning to draw as a kid, but after a few seconds, she realized that Murphy was just being sarcastic and messing with her.

She narrowed her eyes at him and returned to her sketch.

“Find someone else to annoy.”

“Annoy? Who said anything about annoy? What are you sketching?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled her sketchbook away from his view, but Murphy craned his neck and caught a glimpse of it anyway.

“Another sketch of Kane? Cool cool cool you’ve only done six of those so far, that’s definitely a good use of your time.”

“I’m _trying_ to sketch out the big events from the last year, Murphy, as I have told you several times now. And at least I’m not spending my time making others miserable.”

Murphy pushed away from her and laid down on the remainder of the couch, throwing his arms up in despair.

She ignored him.

He put his feet in her lap.

She pushed them to the floor.

“I’m so BORED!” he shouted.

“Yeah, got that. Want to learn to sketch?”

“You tried to teach me last week. Remember?” he asked, pointing to the drawing he had attempted, which he had taped to the wall next to the television. It was as horrifying as it was inaccurate. Jasper claimed it had given him nightmares. Clarke cringed.

“Yeah, maybe we need to try something else,” Clarke agreed. “Want to help out on the farm?”

“I’ve been banned,” Murphy replied, offering no explanation. Clarke didn’t ask for one.

“You could go annoy Raven,” she suggested.

“Don’t even think about it!” came a call from the dining room, the far end of which Raven had unofficially taken over as her office. No one really felt the need to eat ration bars at a formal dining room table, so no one had objected yet.

“Go help Jasper write a song.”

“I’d rather kill myself.”

“Did you exercise yet today?”

“He has not!” came a shout from Echo’s bedroom.

“Jesus, people, can we have a private conversation in this place?” Murphy called in exasperation.

At least four people shouted variations of “no” from different rooms.

“How about you read a book?” Clarke asked.

“I’m not a nerd.”

“You _can_ read, can’t you?”

“Yes, Griffin, I can read,” Murphy shot back with a smirk. “I’ve just never seen the point.”

Clarke paused for a moment, then leaned in conspiratorially.

“It will drive Bellamy crazy if you start reading his precious books.”

Murphy considered this, chewing on the side of his cheek in thought.

“Now that’s an idea,” he told her, before sauntering off to bother Bellamy for a book.

With a smirk, Clarke went back to her sketch in peace.

* * *

“You just had to send him here,” Bellamy complained that night as he and Clarke lay in bed.

It had become a habit for them, to spend some time catching up and chatting before bed. Harper had referred to it as “pillow talk,” but Clarke had made a gagging sound at that and rejected the label.

(It _was_ pillow talk, though. That’s literally what it was.)

“He was driving everyone else crazy. The books were a small sacrifice.”

Bellamy shot her an alarmed look at the idea of books _ever_ being a worthwhile sacrifice. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“What did he pick, anyway?”

“He grabbed the first _Sandgliders_ book,” Bellamy explained. “We have the whole series.”

“Is that the one with the ‘Riptide of Time’ or something?” Clarke asked, trying to remember the book she had read as a kid.

“Yeah, on the Arc they only had a digital file of the second book in the series – _The Sandgliders and the Ripples of Time_. The series was actually five books in total. I’ve heard they were pretty popular back before the bombs. Even some adults read them.”

“Did you ever read any of them?”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes and held up his pretentious-looking novel. “I read serious things, Princess.”

“Oh yes,” Clarke responded with mock seriousness, nodding her head. “Only the most serious.”

Bellamy went back to reading but Clarke was bored and decided to annoy him by pressing her freezing cold toes against his leg. He jumped and glared at her.

“You are a _menace_.”

Clarke smiled brightly before turning over and going to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Clarke was at the dart board, working on her aim. Roan was leaning against the opposite wall, “coaching” (mocking) her.

“See that part of the board is just the background, not the actual target,” he called over to her.

Clarke glared at him before throwing her next dart, which again went wide of the target.

Suddenly Murphy burst out of his room, waving an old paperback.

“You have to read this,” Murphy told them. Roan rolled his eyes and immediately left, wary after Murphy had tailed him for over an hour a few days earlier. Clarke saw him disappear into the gym, which was genius, because Murphy avoided it as if it was made of lava.

Clarke tried to ignore Murphy and threw her last dart. Murphy walked up to the dart board, gathered her darts (only one of which had even reached the actual dartboard part of the dartboard), and stuffed them into his back pocket. Clarke made a squeak of indignation.

“Seriously, Griffin, you need to read this,” Murphy repeated, again brandishing the book.

“ _Sandgliders_? Seriously, Murphy? I’m not seven.”

“Clarke this book is _incredible_. And there’s so much more to it than the underwater civilization. I’m already midway through the second book.”

“I read the second book as a kid – we had it on the Arc.”

“I did too, but it’s nothing when you don’t have the context from the beginning of the series. You _have to_ read it!”

He continued to pester Clarke about the book, but she fought him off until he eventually went off to find Emori.

The rest of the day, though, Clarke found that she couldn’t settle. She was tired of sketching. She swam for an hour and then felt slightly nauseous and needed to sit down. Everyone else was busy, save Jasper, and she couldn’t tolerate any of his songs at the moment.

She looked to her right and saw the first _Sandgliders_ book, _The Sandgliders and the Crystal Maze_ , sitting on the coffee table, where Murphy had left it after no one had consented to read it that morning.

“Fine,” she declared under her breath, reaching for the book. “How bad can it be?”

* * *

“Monty’s definitely up to something,” Bellamy declared that night as he and Clarke sat in their bed, each with their own book. Talking with their heads on pillows, but definitely not, you know, pillow talk (except it was).

“Hmm,” he got in response.

“He’s been so jumpy lately and he won’t let anyone into the farm room – not even Jasper.”

“Mmm”

“It doesn’t seem like he’s worried or upset, though.”

“Mmhmm”

“Clarke are you even listening?” Bellamy asked.

“Hmmm”

“I think Monty and Roan are hooking up,” Bellamy declared, knowing this wasn’t true but trying to shock Clarke into a response.

“Mmhmm”

“Ok, that’s it,” Bellamy declared, snatching Clarke’s book.

“What are you doing?! I need that!” Clarke shouted, reaching for her book. Bellamy held it out of her reach. Clarke rose to her knees and lunged for it, but Bellamy used his height and long arms to keep it away from her.

“There is no way you are that into this kids’ book,” he said, incredulous.

“It’s more than a kid’s book! And they’re about to descend into the Cavern of Crystal Cacophany, Bellamy! _The Cavern of Crystal Cacophany!_ ”

“That literally means nothing.”

“I hate you. Give me my book back.”

“You talk to me all the time as I try to read,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but your books are boring and dumb. This is totally different. Give it back!”

Bellamy finally handed the book back with a huff and had to laugh when Clarke immediately started reading again, her intense stare showing just how into it she was.

For the first time in a while, Bellamy went to sleep first that night, as Clarke stayed up late to finish the novel.

* * *

Within days, Murphy and Clarke had become completely obsessed with _The Sandgliders_. They had now both finished the second book and were trying to make themselves hold off on reading the third in an effort to make the series last as long as they could.

“I just found the Scuttlers’ whole backstory really compelling,” Clarke told him as they sat in the living room for lunch talking about the books while everyone else tried to ignore them.

“Oh definitely,” Murphy agreed, taking the book series far more seriously than he had ever taken anything in the _real_ world. “I wish there was a whole spin-off series just about them.”

“I would read that, but would it be like a prequel or a sequel?”

“I think it would have to be a prequel because after the Battle of Stingray Grove, there really isn’t room for a sequel, you know what I mean?”

They both laughed at what was clearly an inside joke and the rest of their bunkermates rolled their eyes.

“Are you still talking about that stupid kids’ book series?” Raven asked.

“It’s not stupid, and if you read it, you’d know,” Murphy fired back. Clarke nodded in agreement.

“This friendship is a real bummer to me,” Jasper pointed out, indicating the new bond between Murphy and Clarke.

“So what is this book even about?” Echo asked. “You mentioned people that live underwater – so it’s like merpeople?”

Murphy and Clarke both laughed at her.

“As if,” Clarke retorted. “The merpeople are the _sworn enemies_ of the Sandgliders – everybody knows that.”

“The Sandgliders are humans who live in glass mazes at the bottom of the ocean,” Murphy explained, as if it was obvious. Bellamy scoffed.

“Is it related to that Atlantis thing?” Monty asked, taking another bite of his ration bar.

“So that’s what’s interesting,” Murphy replied, jumping to the edge of the couch. “The Sandgliders are related to the lost colony of Atlantis but they have no idea why it collapsed. In the first book, Cyprien discovers the Book of Pearl and Onyx, which is supposedly the last remaining ledger of the Atlantians, but no one can decode it. The Scuttlers issue their warning in the second book, that the book must be decoded if the Sandgliders are to survive whatever killed the Atlantians, but Hildi and Rudolpho still aren’t able to crack the code.”

“Who are Hildi and Rudolpho?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke scoffed. “Only the most compelling literary duo that has ever lived.”

“Holmes and Watson,” Raven argued.

“Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn,” Bellamy threw in.

“Romeo and Juliet,” Harper added.

“Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Jasper suggested, earning him a pillow thrown at his head courtesy of Raven.

“Garbage,” Murphy argued. “Once you’ve met Hildi and Rudolpho, no one else can compare.” Clarke nodded eagerly in agreement.

“Ok ok,” Emori conceded, “I’ll read the books. I don’t think John is going to give me any peace until I do anyway.”

“I’ll read them too,” Jasper announced. “It’s not like I have anything else to do, especially since my guitar _has gone missing again_.” (Harper and Raven suddenly started shifting in their seats, looking guilty and avoiding eye contact).

Murphy and Clarke looked around the room for other takers.

“Not a chance,” Raven assured them. “I don’t have time for vapid kids’ books.” Monty also told everyone he had too much to do and Harper came up with some clearly fake excuse. Bellamy refused altogether, but Clarke knew she could wear him out.

They turned to Echo and Roan. Echo shrugged her shoulders. “Might as well give it a try – I don’t see why not.” Bellamy had noticed that she had been making a real effort lately to try to integrate into the group, so he wasn’t surprised when she volunteered.

“I’ve already read them,” Roan announced, and everyone looked at him, stunned.

“Why do you all always assume that Grounders have no education or culture? It’s been less than 100 years since the bombs. We still had books, you idiots. My mother was the fucking queen. Yes, I read the entire series as a kid. It’s pretty good.”

“See!” Murphy shouted, happy to have an ally. Roan just rolled his eyes, though, and crumbled up his ration bar wrapper, handing it over to Monty for the compost bin.

“No spoilers!” Clarke shouted at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” Roan assured her.

* * *

The “Princess” comment didn’t sit well with Bellamy. He knew it wasn’t like he had some sort of exclusive claim on the label – hell, he wasn’t even the one who came up with it. But there was something about hearing _Roan_ call Clarke “Princess” that got under his skin.

He had played it off in the moment and no one had noticed anything, but now as he got ready for bed, he worried that Clarke would pick up on his irritation. She was eerily good at reading him. He brushed his teeth and threw some water on his face before quickly toweling off.

As he came out of the bathroom, he found Clarke sitting in bed, looking at him expectantly. She clearly had something she wanted to talk about.

He took a deep breath.

“Bellamy, I think we should talk about the conversation in the living room earlier – and especially about what Roan said.”

Bellamy took a deeper breath.

“I think you need to listen to him.”

Now Bellamy exhaled that enormous breath, confused (and somewhat light-headed).

“Listen to him, how?” he asked.

“I really think you need to give _The Sandgliders_ a try.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. _Of course she would be thinking about that stupid book series_.

* * *

Within days, Echo, Emori, and Jasper had all read the first two books in the series. Emori thought they were captivating. Jasper liked all of the different mythical creatures. Echo had enjoyed the books, but after reading the first one, announced that she had a prediction for the ending of the series. She confirmed it privately with Roan, who didn’t remember all of the details, but had the broad brushstrokes in his memory. She was very smug about being right about whatever big ending the series possessed.

Murphy and Clarke had promised not to start the third book until their friends caught up so they could all experience it together. Bellamy thought they were being ridiculous.

It seemed like every conversation now led back to the series as well.

“We should double-check the inventory lists for the ration bars,” Raven had suggested one day at dinner.

“Otherwise we might have to resort to sea-thistles,” Emori threw in, earning a laugh from Echo, Murphy, Clarke, and Jasper.

Raven rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, that’s what the Sandgliders eat?”

“Um, only when their crops of sea-cucumbers and harvests of sea-stars fall short, and that really only happened during the winter – what winter was it?” Clarke asked.

“The Winter of the Spiral Shell,” Echo contributed. Clarke leaned over to give her a high five.

Raven stared at the ceiling, exasperated.

Another day, when Monty and Bellamy were protesting everyone else’s choice of movie, Murphy called them “trench dwellers,” which sent the rest of the readers into a tizzy of laughter.

“Do I want to know what a trench dweller is?” Bellamy asked.

“They’re the old curmudgeons who refuse to have faith in the more progressive Sandgliders,” Clarke explained patiently. “Most of them have never even left the crystal maze.” Her tone told them that never leaving the crystal maze was a serious strike against one’s character.

It only got worse once the group started the third book. They took turns reading it aloud as a group because they couldn’t wait for each of them to read it one at a time.

An intense debate broke out one day over whether Hildi and Rudolpho were meant to be (Clarke and Jasper’s argument), or whether Cyprien might prove a better match for Hildi (Murphy and Emori’s take). Echo stayed out of it, given that she already knew the ending.

“Cyprien challenges her,” Emori argued. “Rudolpho is great but I think their relationship is more platonic than anything.”

“ _Platonic?”_ Jasper practically shouted. “They hold hands for over half of the second book! He strokes her hair as she sleeps! She couldn’t kill him to save the Sandgliders’ race!” (At that last point, Bellamy noticed Clarke’s face turn a little red and she seemed to be firmly _not_ looking in his direction).

“Yeah, but he’s more like a brother to her,” Murphy protested. Clarke and Jasper both scoffed.

“I think their closeness is what gives them strength,” came a new voice – Harper was now joining in the conversation. Bellamy felt his scowl grow.

“Don’t tell me they wrangled you too?” he asked.

“I couldn’t help it – they’re too good! Even Monty started the first one last night!” Monty nodded guiltily. Jasper turned to offer Bellamy a smug smile.

Bellamy looked across the living room at Raven. They were the last remaining holdouts.

Just with their eye contact, Bellamy could tell they made a promise. They wouldn’t break.

* * *

At night, though, Clarke was _relentless_.

“I just think you would really appreciate the subtle ways in which the series tackles social class,” she told him one evening. “Hildi and Rudolpho’s partnership transcends class lines and calls traditional hierarchies into question.”

“You, more than anyone, would appreciate the allusions to classic literature,” she tried another time.

“If you would just give it a shot, I swear you would like it,” she told him constantly.

Still, he held firm. He wasn’t really sure why he was being such a grump about the series, but stubbornness was one of his most pronounced character traits, and he wasn’t going to back down now. The series also hadn’t won any points with him when it became the _only_ thing Clarke wanted to talk about during their ~~pillow talk~~ evening conversations.

* * *

The following Tuesday was Bunker Cleaning Day, and it was definitely needed. Harper had even started talking about bumping the cleaning days up to twice per week. Ten people in a confined space, even a relatively roomy space, made a pretty big mess (especially when one of those ten was Murphy).

Bellamy looked at the cleaning assignments Harper had posted on the fridge. Harper and Monty were cleaning the farm room. Jasper, Bellamy, and Echo were assigned to the gym and lounge. Raven and Clarke had the kitchen. Murphy, Emori, and Roan were in charge of the living room and dining room.

Jasper started putting things back in their proper place in the lounge and checked with Roan to ask when he could borrow the vacuum cleaner. Bellamy was insanely grateful Clarke had grabbed that from Becca’s mansion. He and Echo worked to scrub down the surfaces in the gym and to drain and clean the swimming pool.

“You know, if we pushed the equipment to the far wall, we could train in here,” Echo suggested.

“Train how? All of the weapons are in the airlock.”

Echo rolled her eyes. “There’s more to fighting than just weapons.”

“Could you and Roan teach us some hand-to-hand stuff?” Bellamy asked, now very interested.

“Definitely. And we could probably create some wooden swords out of the extra bedframe we didn’t use in the farm room if we wanted to do some swordwork.”

“I think the term is ‘fencing,’” Bellamy told her.

Echo shot him a glare, but said nothing back.

“Yeah, no, training sounds great,” Bellamy offered a moment later, trying to cover up his awkwardness with a fake cough. He was still getting used to talking civilly with Echo. They didn’t get each other’s jokes or read tone very well, but he had to admit that the offer of training was exciting. It would at least be something different.

Echo sent Bellamy to the kitchen to get a clean bucket of water for them to use for the floor. As he turned the corner, he heard Raven and Clarke whispering. He held back, waiting to see if they were talking about something personal, in which case he’d fill his bucket elsewhere. He listened, trying not to eavesdrop, but just to pick up on a little bit of what they were saying so he could read the mood.

“Do you really think we can trust him?” Raven whispered.

“I think so. He seems to have good intentions.”

Now Bellamy was concerned. Who were they talking about? The “him” implied it had to be Roan, Monty, Jasper, Murphy, or himself. The only one of the five he could think of as potentially untrustworthy was Roan… or Murphy of course.

“But that cryptic secret message…” Raven added.

_What cryptic secret message? Who had a cryptic secret message?_

“The one Rudolpho intercepted?” Clarke asked.

“Yes, though I think Hildi was supposed to find it,” Raven answered.

Bellamy burst around the corner.

“We had a pact, Reyes!”

“I never made any promises, Blake!” she shot back, clearly caught. Their raised voices attracted the rest of their bunkermates, who, of course, were happy to have any excuse to take a break in their cleaning.

“What’s this about?” Monty asked.

“She read those stupid books,” Bellamy replied angrily.

“The books aren’t stupid,” Jasper fired back.

Bellamy looked around at the nodding faces.

“Are you seriously all on board with this stupid book series?” he asked.

“It’s seriously so good,” Raven told him earnestly.

Bellamy threw up his arms in defeat.

“Cheer up,” Monty told him with a smirk. “I have some good news.”

Everyone turned to look at him and Bellamy noticed that he held his hands behind his back. Suddenly he pulled them to the front, exposing what he was hiding – two fistfuls of fresh carrots.

“We have food!”

Even Bellamy couldn’t be a grump after that announcement.

* * *

The produce started coming in steadily after that and the whole bunker was enormously relieved to have a break from the ration bars. First up were the carrots, beans, and tomatoes. The corn was growing steadily, but it would take a while to get to the point where they could harvest it. The bell peppers, eggplant, zucchini, squash, and cabbage came in relatively quickly. The leafy greens – the spinach and lettuce – followed. They didn’t appear to be growing so well, but Monty had a few ideas for how to stimulate them.

The one hold-out, aside from the corn, was the strawberries. They all suspected that it was because that was the crop they were most looking forward to harvesting. Every day, they peeked at the stems and leaves, looking for buds.

In the meantime, they experimented with how to cook and prepare their harvest. Some of the veggies could be eaten raw, but most were definitely much better cooked, as Bellamy learned the day he bit into a raw eggplant. Murphy took the lead in the kitchen. Echo proved an enthusiastic sous chef and Emori could always be counted on to help her boyfriend as well. Murphy experimented with which veggies were better roasted, blanched, and steamed. Bellamy wasn’t too picky – anything beat those ration bars.

Salt helped the veggies immensely, but they all knew their supply was limited. It looked like they had a ton now, but they knew it would go quickly, so they tried to limit their use of it.

Bellamy’s favorite thing was when Murphy roasted tomatoes. The skin puckered and the fruit became so tender and unctuous – he could eat those all day.

Monty was still perfecting the harvest timing, so they typically had enough produce for lunch and dinner, but still stuck to ration bars for breakfast. Monty was pretty confident that they’d be able to phase those out in a month or so too.

Bellamy was also happy for the distraction: the produce gave everyone something new to talk about for a few days, so he got a blessed reprieve from hearing about whatever underwater people everyone else in the bunker was obsessed with.

Well, everyone except Roan – Bellamy still had an ally in him. Roan wasn’t against the books, but having read them all before, he was able to stay above the hype.

Bellamy was eating dinner with him now over a game of pool while the others debated their theories for the final book, which they were planning to start reading together the next day.

“Four, corner pocket,” Roan called. He missed his shot, but just barely. Bellamy surveyed the table, trying to decide what to go for.

A peal of laughter burst from the living room and Bellamy rolled his eyes. Roan smirked at him.

“Still not giving in?” Roan asked.

“Definitely not. Six, side pocket.”

His ball bounced off the side, six inches from the pocket. He grimaced in response before heading over to the nearby table to grab a couple more bites of his dinner.

“I bet it would make Clarke happy,” Roan said carefully as he circled the table.

“Yeah, well, she seems happy enough these days.”

“She does. I’m glad you two worked your shit out.”

“Me too.”

“Seven, corner pocket,” Roan announced, before sinking his shot. Bellamy gritted his teeth. Roan sunk two more before missing. He only had two balls left; Bellamy still had six to go.

Bellamy circled the table, sizing up his shot while Roan ate. He wanted to go for the three ball, but it was close to the eight ball, and if he angled his cue wrong, he would sink the eight and lose the game.

The group in the living room laughed again and Bellamy could hear Clarke squealing about something. It distracted him from the game and he was sure Roan could tell.

“You know you could just read them and get it over with,” Roan told him.

“I have no interest in reading them,” Bellamy grumbled, trying to focus on the pool table again.

“Sure. You’d definitely rather be here playing pool with me than sitting on the couch with Clarke.”

“I see Clarke all the time – I live with her.”

Roan raised his eyebrows. “You complaining about that?”

Bellamy couldn’t hide his face in time and Roan chuckled, adding “I thought so.”

Bellamy was going to go for the three. Roan was pissing him off and he needed to take a shot. As he leaned over the table, lining up his cue, Roan added, with a fake tone of nonchalance “Just thought the brave knight would do anything for his princess.”

The cue in Bellamy’s hand jolted and the white ball soared into the eight, knocking it into the side pocket.

“I believe that’s game,” Roan announced triumphantly. Bellamy narrowed his eyes at him.

* * *

Finally, a full ten days after the first harvests came in, the day came when the first strawberries were ripe. Everyone has been talking about them pretty much non-stop since the first buds appeared earlier in the week. The day before, Monty had announced that three would be ready for consumption the next day and they had all decided to cut them up and split them evenly.

Now, Emori took charge of the fruit, cutting off the stems and slicing the three berries into ten even servings. It was their dessert after a dinner of beans and squash.

“God I have missed strawberries,” Clarke moaned.

“I’ve never had cultivated ones, only wild ones,” Emori told them.

“Same here,” Roan offered.

“I’ve actually never had a strawberry,” Echo told everyone.

Clarke looked at her in disbelief. “Never had a strawberry?! Geez, they were my favorite food as a kid. I swear I had them every day with breakfast.” She turned to the rest of her friends who had grown up in space, waiting for them to chime in.

They were quiet.

“I had a green one, once, when I was able to sneak it without the head Farm Tech watching,” Jasper offered.

“My mom gave me one that had fallen on the ground and gotten bruised,” Monty offered.

Bellamy watched Clarke realize her mistake. Growing up on Alpha Station granted her privileges no one else had experienced. Raven in Mecha station, he and Harper on Factory station – none of them had ever had anything as luxurious as a strawberry. Even for their friends in Farm Station, strawberries had been pretty much off the table.

“What is it?” Emori asked, picking up on the tension.

“Princess forgot she was royalty,” Murphy spit out derisively.

“It’s not her fault,” Raven jumped to her defense. “She was just excited about something. She didn’t know.”

“I should have known,” Clarke offered quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Emori still looked confused, so Murphy filled her, Roan, and Echo in on the different stations – and hierarchies – of the Arc.

Luckily, by the time he was through with his explanation, the strawberries were ready to go and Emori distributed the pieces. Everyone raised their chunk and clinked them together in a kind of cheers before eating them.

“Oh my god,” Harper groaned as she chewed the fruit.

“This is incredible,” Jasper agreed.

“Way better than the wild ones too,” Roan added.

Bellamy noticed that Clarke was quietly chewing but not saying anything. He could tell she felt guilty. As the others continued to talk about how delicious the fruit was, he carefully skimmed his hand over her lower back, rubbing a couple of soothing circles.

“You ok?” he whispered, leaning toward her ear.

She nodded and flashed him a clearly fake smile.

“Want to talk about it tonight?” he asked, knowing she wouldn’t want to call attention to herself now. She nodded again and he could tell she was grateful at how well he knew her.

Tonight wasn’t a group bonding night, so they split up to occupy their time as they saw fit. Echo was joining Jasper and Murphy for a movie. Harper and Raven were looking at something on the computer. Emori and Roan headed for a game of darts.

Monty turned to Bellamy and Clarke. “Anyone up for a puzzle?”

“Not tonight,” Clarke told him, “I’m feeling kind of worn out. I think I’m going to take a shower.”

Bellamy knew that going with her would only call more attention to the fact that she was sitting tonight out – and he knew that was the last thing she wanted.

“I’ll start a puzzle with you,” he told Monty. Clarke shot him a thankful look before retreating into their room.

Monty got the puzzle box and the two sat down at the dining room table, at the opposite end of where Raven and Harper sat working.

They started to sort through the pieces, looking for edges and corners. The picture was a landscape of a lighthouse on a beach. It looked peaceful and soothing, but Bellamy could tell that the inky blue sky was going to be hell to put together.

“You and Clarke seem to really get each other,” Monty offered.

“We always have,” Bellamy agreed, not thinking too much about it.

“I’m glad that you have each other.” There was a pause. “You know, like I have Harper.”

“It’s not like that,” Bellamy protested, eyes shooting up to meet his friend’s.

Monty gave him a knowing smirk.

“It’s _not_ ,” Bellamy pressed. “We’re just friends. We just get each other, that’s all.”

“Mmhmm, that’s why you’re dying to go back to your room and check on her,” Monty added.

“I’m not dying to do anything. I’m enjoying starting this puzzle.”

“You’ve missed three edge pieces so far,” Monty pointed out, reaching for the pieces Bellamy had thoughtlessly discarded back to the box with the rest of the middle pieces. “And your knee won’t stop bouncing. It’s driving Raven crazy.”

Bellamy risked a look at the mechanic and, sure enough, she was scowling at him.

“Sorry,” he told her, putting a hand on his knee. Raven just rolled her eyes and returned to her work.

Bellamy exhaled loudly and Monty snorted a chuckle.

“Oh shut up and just work on the puzzle,” Bellamy griped.

* * *

After an hour, Bellamy and Monty had completed the outside of the puzzle and had made good progress on the lighthouse. Harper and Raven were closing Becca’s laptop and stacking folders, signaling they were done for the day.

“You coming to bed?” Harper asked Monty. Monty smiled at her and agreed.

“So you’re just leaving me here?” Bellamy asked, teasing.

“We all know there’s somewhere else you’d rather be too,” Harper told him with a wink. Bellamy rolled his eyes, but helped Monty put the remaining pieces in the box so that they could continue the puzzle the next day.

Raven headed out to the living room to harass the television-watchers and Harper and Monty retreated to their room, Harper giving a small giggle as they closed the door behind them.

Bellamy headed for his room and opened the door quietly, not sure if Clarke would be asleep yet. He saw her sitting on their bed with a sketchbook, her hair still damp from her shower. He smiled as he eased himself into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Clarke smiled softly at him.

“Thanks for giving me some time,” she told him, setting down her sketch. Bellamy could tell from a quick glance that she was drawing Wells.

“No problem,” he told her. He gestured to the sketch, adding “reliving some memories tonight?”

“Yeah, strawberries were Wells’s favorite,” she told him.

“I wish I had had the chance to get to know him better.”

“Me too – I honestly think you two would have gotten along.”

“Really?” Bellamy asked.

“Most of the time,” she answered with a small smile.

Bellamy sat next to her on the bed, quiet. He knew conversations with Clarke tended to go better if he let her speak first.

“I feel so stupid for what I said earlier,” she finally announced, avoiding eye contact and picking at the edge of her blanket.

“Don’t feel stupid,” Bellamy told her. “You were excited about something and shared experiences from your childhood. It’s not your fault that we didn’t have the same experiences.”

“But I should be more aware of my privilege and should catch myself before I say stuff like that.”

Bellamy thought about that for a moment, trying to think of how he wanted to respond.

“I think it’s good to be aware of your privilege,” he finally started, “but I don’t think that it should keep you from connecting to the people that want to be close to you. There has to be a way to acknowledge that you had a privileged upbringing without feeling shame for your memories, especially the good ones.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully. She rolled over to her side to face him and propped her head up on her hand, planting her elbow on her pillow.

“Do you think we ever would have been friends on the Arc?” she asked.

Bellamy’s lips turned up into a smirk. “Would the princess have ever befriended a janitor? I sincerely doubt it.”

Clarke frowned at him but wouldn’t be dissuaded. “How would we have met? Maybe you would have been assigned to work in the clinic when I was a doctor.”

“You would have bossed me around,” Bellamy added, and Clarke smiled at the image, “criticized my cleaning methods.”

“You would have argued right back at me. We would have hated each other.”

“And then one day someone would come in – maybe Murphy – who would piss us both off and we’d find ourselves on the same side, and I think we’d be friends from that point on,” Bellamy finished. He felt vulnerable adding this narrative, telling a story about the two of them and what could have been. Clarke’s smile, however, told him it was worth the risk.

“And we still would have bickered all the time,” she told him, “but it would have been different.” Her voice was soft now, quiet.

“What if I had met you when you were in the sky box?” he asked.

“Would you have tried to help me escape?”

“Definitely not, I was in enough trouble as it was,” Bellamy retorted and Clarke snorted with laughter.

“I would have probably tried to get you into more trouble,” she told him honestly.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“What if we had met in school before my dad was floated and before the guards found Octavia?” she asked now. “What if we had been in the same grade or taken classes together?”

Bellamy thought back on those years. He hadn’t had any real friends because the pressure of hiding Octavia was too great. All of his time outside of class was devoted to protecting her and entertaining her. He thought about a young Clarke, bright and eager to please, with all of her privilege shielding her from the struggles of the rest of the people on the ship. He didn’t want to bring that up now, though, after the evening Clarke had had.

“Well you would have hated me when I beat you on every test,” he finally said, jolting backward when she reached to poke him in retaliation.

“Not a chance! I was the top student in every class I was in.”

“Only because we were in different grades.”

“Oh god, we would have hated each other even there, wouldn’t we? Is there a single universe in which we wouldn’t have spent all of our time bickering with each other?”

“Not a single one,” Bellamy confirmed with a smirk. “But I also don’t think there’s a single one that could have kept us from becoming friends in the end.”

Clarke smiled softly at this. She bit her lip and Bellamy could tell she was working up the courage to say something.

“I would have kept your secret, if you had trusted me. I never would have told about Octavia.”

Bellamy was momentarily taken aback, but he could tell that she meant her words.

“I believe you,” he told her sincerely. “And I never would have said anything about what your dad told you.”

Clarke rolled back to her back now, stretching her arms overhead with a yawn.

“Of all of the universes we could have lived in, I don’t know if I would have picked this one, but I’m glad we’re here now.”

“Me too,” Bellamy told her, watching her anxieties melt away as she settled into her pillow.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked her. He ached to reach out and touch her – to run his fingers down her arm or tuck her hair behind her ear – but he stayed put, trying to just let this moment be this moment.

“I am,” she said softly. “You always know what to say to make me feel better. Nobody knows me better than you.”

“Anything for you, Princess,” he told her without thinking.

An eyebrow quirked up and suddenly Clarke was far more awake than she had seemed a moment ago. “Anything?” she asked.

Bellamy groaned, knowing what she was going to ask for and knowing that he was going to cave, even if just to keep this happy expression on her face.

* * *

Two weeks later, the ten of them sat in the dining room, finishing their dinner. Tonight’s meal was a mash of squash, tomatoes, and beans with some fresh spinach on the side. Murphy had added some cumin when he roasted the vegetables and everyone thought it tasted like heaven.

“All I’m saying,” Bellamy announced, wrapping up the point he had spent close to ten minutes making, “is that the foreshadowing in Book Three: _The Sandgliders and The Twisting Current_ , is essential if you’re going to appreciate the epilogue of the final book, _The Sandgliders and the Eternal Waves._ ”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Monty jumped in, “but if you’re going to talk foreshadowing, I think we need to address the ways in which Cyprien’s character is introduced in Book 1. They immediately set him up to be an obstacle for Hildi and Rudolpho, even though he ends up being the evil eternal being who brought down Atlantis.”

“Are you saying that Cyprien is just a symbol for obstacles to progress?” Emori asked.

“That depends on how you’re defining ‘progress,’” Clarke threw in, earning nods from Raven and Harper.

“I can’t believe you all are still talking about this,” Roan announced, rubbing his temples. “And you, of all people,” he said, pointing at Bellamy, “I thought you were going to hold out!”

“What can I say,” Bellamy replied, avoiding eye contact with Clarke but desperately wanting to smile in her direction, “they wore me down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I finished typing this chapter, I sat back and thought “gosh that chapter was stupid.” But I also thought it was kind of funny, so I’m posting it anyway. Hildi and Rudolpho spin-off fic? Not going to happen, but I will try to pepper in references to that ridiculous made-up series anyway because I had fun making it up and trying to make it over-the-top-ridiculous. The crabpeople are my favorite. Believe it or not, I actually sketched out the plot of the series and stupid details in order to weave them into this chapter (I didn’t even get to mention Rudolpho’s twin brother, Virgil).
> 
> A head cold and writer’s block slowed this chapter down – I’m hoping that the next update will be quicker (jinxes self, of course).
> 
> Also, one quick note – I’m not sure if I’m going to bring Madi into this story, but I do have an idea for them to adopt a radioactive cat named Ferguson after they can safely venture to the surface for short expeditions after three years or so of living in the bunker. If I’m still writing by that point, I’ll make it happen.
> 
> Also also, as of now there will be no babies in this fic. It’s not that I don’t like babies, it’s that I have two of my own (ages 4 and 1) and while they’re adorable they’re also my main sources of exhaustion and stress, so I just kind of want a child-less space for my fic. 
> 
> Next chapter: Raven’s tinkering starts driving everyone crazy so they all start intentionally breaking things to distract her. Clarke gets a haircut and Bellamy does a less than stellar job of keeping his chill about it. We're definitely fully on the Bellarke train now, though I'll still drag the burn out for a few more chapters.
> 
> Leave any ideas for shenanigans you want to see in the comments! xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets annoyed with Raven's constant tinkering, Clarke gets a hot haircut and Bellamy loses his shit over it, and Roan is up to something.

**Day 88**

Roan woke up slowly, stretching his arms overhead and emitting a sizable yawn. The lights in the room told him that he had slept in more than usual, but he was living in an underground bunker with nothing to do at the end of the world, so he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

He listened for the sound of Echo’s breathing, but heard nothing, so that meant she was already up and out of the room for the morning. She was an early riser, so this was a pretty normal occurrence.

He took a few more minutes to wake up before pulling himself up to a sitting position.

He could hear voices in the living room and listened as he stood and stretched. It was clear that there were a good number of people out there. He heard Murphy, Clarke, Echo, and Harper for sure. If Clarke was there, Bellamy was too. Roan smirked at the thought of those two oblivious idiots. He had known how they felt each other the first time he saw them together in that abandoned subway station, but for some reason they were still in denial. It had become one of Roan’s favorite pastimes to flirt with Clarke just to watch Bellamy get flustered. When he had sat next to Clarke during the movie the other night and casually draped his arm around her shoulders, he swore Bellamy developed a nose whistle.

Roan was used to hearing everyone gathered in the living room to talk, but this seemed different – it felt like everyone was talking quietly, as if they were discussing something secret.

Roan felt the corners of his lips turn up. He had a pretty good idea what they were talking about. He went to the door and pressed his ear against it, trying to hear better.

Was that something about next week? Did he hear the word “plans?”

Roan sauntered out with a grin on his face. He was right about the size of the group gathered in the room: he could see everyone except Raven and Monty.

The seven friends gathered in the living room looked up at him and the panic in their eyes made it clear they had been caught in a secret conversation. After seeing it was Roan, though, they all looked relieved.

“It’s just him,” Emori sighed, before turning back to the group.

Roan frowned. Clearly he wasn’t the person they were trying to keep out of the loop. _Or they didn’t want to make him suspicious_ …

“What’s going on?” he finally asked.

“We’re discussing the Raven problem,” Clarke told him. “She’s in the shower, so we have about five more minutes.”

The “Raven Problem,” as everyone but Raven knew, referred to her incessant tinkering, which was annoying for several reasons. One, the sounds of metal crunching together and ripping apart started to really grate on your nerves after three months. Two, you occasionally stepped on a nail or loose staple (those meager first aid supplies Clarke had grabbed from the mansion were coming in handy). Three, and this was the biggest one, not all of her tinkering was _successful_. 

Raven Reyes left a path of destruction in her wake.

It started with the kitchen timer. Yes, Roan was the only one who used the kitchen timer, a small yellow plastic object with a dial you could spin to set it to ding after a certain period of time. Murphy preferred to cook by “feeling” and the others simply used the main clock in the living room, but Roan liked the timer. He liked things to be _precise_. If the vegetables were supposed to roast for 18 minutes, he wanted them to roast for exactly 18 minutes.

But Raven thought that the springs in the timer could be useful in helping her do something to the microwave to help it distribute heat more evenly, so she disassembled Roan’s timer, leaving the small plastic remnants piled up on the counter like a mistreated corpse. Ok, so that was a bit dramatic. But, damn it, Roan liked that timer.

And _then_ , when she tried to work on the microwave, she ended up breaking something with the temperature settings so that it could only heat things on low power. They didn’t use the microwave a lot, but it was still annoying to lose a good deal of its functionality less than three months into its use.

She was constantly taking things apart looking for useful parts. They had lost the can opener, a blender, and at least two wall sconces this way.

Raven had tried to take apart one of the treadmills, but luckily Echo had caught her in time.

“What is she doing now?” Roan asked the group assembled in the living room.

“She’s set her sights on the washer and dryer,” Harper whispered.

“No!” Roan responded instantly. Having clothes easily cleaned by a machine was just about the only good thing about living in this bunker. If Raven broke that… the whole place would become a nightmare… a very stinky nightmare.

“I know,” Harper replied. “We’re all trying to think of something we can do to distract her.”

“Where’s Monty?” Roan asked.

“Tending to that stupid squash,” Echo replied bitterly. 

“Is he finally harvesting it?” Roan asked. Echo’s annoyed expression answered that question. She and Monty had been arguing about the squash for over a week now. Echo swore it was ready to pick, while Monty wanted to keep growing it to see how large it would get.

“It’s going to turn to mush,” Echo complained, but Jasper interrupted her.

“We only have a few more minutes!” he whisper-hissed, pointing to the clock.

“What about Becca’s files?” Bellamy suggested.

“She’s already read through them twice,” Harper told him. “She says there’s nothing that can help us right now, but some stuff she might revisit in a year or two.”

“I still say we should just let her take apart the treadmill,” Murphy said, earning him a glare from Echo.

“Ok, hear me out,” Jasper announced. He leaned in closely and everyone else did the same. “What if we cracked open the door to the airlock every day for like 10 seconds – just enough time to set off some alarm bells but not enough time to really hurt us. She would get so focused on that that she wouldn’t touch anything else in the bunker.”

Everyone stared at him.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Murphy finally announced. Jasper immediately took offense and looked to the rest of the group for back-up, but their faces told him they weren’t on his side.

“Jasper,” Clarke said, more gently than Murphy had, “that could literally kill us. We have no idea how much radiation is out there.”

“Not to mention,” Emori added, “that a problem that big would send Raven into a tailspin – who knows how much she would take apart in her quest to fix it.”

“Well I don’t hear any better ideas,” Jasper muttered bitterly.

“We need to break something,” Roan finally told everyone.

“Why would we break something to keep Raven from breaking things?” Murphy drawled, but Echo knew where he was going with it.

“To keep her attention focused on one thing,” she explained with a smirk.

“Exactly.”

“It has to be something we don’t really need,” Harper added, “but something that she would want to fix.”

“The television?” Clarke suggested. Jasper and Murphy immediately shot that down.

“What about the refrigerator?” Bellamy asked. “It’s convenient, but we don’t absolutely need it right now.”

“I think the risk is too high with that,” Harper replied, and Clarke agreed.

“I have an idea,” Murphy announced, “but it’s a little extreme.”

The group heard Raven’s shower turn off and quickly turned to Murphy, urging him to hurry with his explanation.

“We break _my_ shower,” he told them. “And then I insist on using hers until she fixes mine.”

“Low impact, low stakes,” Bellamy assessed.

“But could be super annoying if you hammed it up,” Clarke agreed.

“Wait, does this mean I lose a shower too?” Emori asked.

“It’s for the good of the bunker!” Jasper told her. Emori went to protest, but at that moment Raven stepped out, clad in soft pants and a tank top, her hair wrapped up in a towel.

Jasper burst into fake laughter and Harper immediately started talking with Clarke as if they had been engaged in conversation for at least ten minutes. Roan was impressed by how quickly everyone covered up what they had really been doing.

They were so impressive that maybe they really had been discussing something else when he was still asleep in his room that morning…

* * *

“How the _fuck_ did you manage to break your shower, Murphy?” Raven asked the next day. Harper and Clarke stole quick glances at each other before looking away.

(The truth was that it had actually been exceptionally _difficult_ to break Murphy’s shower and had required nearly all of them working in shifts while the others distracted Raven. Clarke and Harper had finally been the ones to wrench the water knob off of the wall, which had admittedly felt a little fun in the moment.)

“I don’t know, Reyes, it just broke,” Murphy told her with convincing apathy.

They were all doing pretty well at maintaining straight faces and not giving the truth away… well all of them except for Bellamy, who was still terrible at keeping secrets. He shifted nervously from foot to foot in the kitchen until Clarke glared at him, at which point he retreated into the dining room to snag a laptop to watch one of his precious documentaries.

“I had hoped to start on the laundry machines today,” Raven grumbled. “Just use my shower today and I’ll get to it soon.”

Clarke looked to Harper. They had planned for this. Now it was up to Murphy to be Murphy – abrasive, obnoxious, and ever-present.

“Before you start on the laundry,” Echo intervened, “could you show me how to use the laptop with the touchscreen?”

The group knew this was a huge sacrifice on Echo’s part. The only thing she hated more than what she called “useless tech” was sitting around learning how to _use_ said useless tech. Clarke shot her a grateful look.

“Fine,” Raven sighed, “but I’m starting on the laundry machines tomorrow. I think I know a way to make the soap usage more efficient so that our supply will last longer.”

* * *

Thus began what could truly only be classified as the ultimate experiment in teamwork. Every day, Murphy insisted on using Raven’s shower, sometimes multiple times per day, and he was as obnoxious as possible. The others even thought of ideas for him to employ.

The first day, he splashed water all over Raven and Jasper’s bathroom, claiming he needed to shake himself like a dog to dry off. Raven just rolled her eyes before grabbing a towel and cleaning it up.

The next day, he added some loud singing, but Raven just put in the earplugs she had found when Jasper started his evening “concerts.”

Over the next few days, he combined making a mess, being as loud and gross as possible (including one enormous belch that honestly left everyone impressed), and even using some of Raven’s shampoo, which every knew meant taking his life into his own hands.

But nothing had broken Raven’s resolve.

This, of course, also meant that the rest of them needed to find distractions to keep her away from the laundry every day. One day, Harper pretended to be in the midst of a big fight with Monty (over what everyone had now dubbed the “monster squash”) and begged Raven to talk through it with her. Another day, Bellamy persuaded her to train with him and Echo in the makeshift arena they were constructing in the gym.

By the end of the week, everyone was exhausted. The whole bunker, minus Raven who was napping, had convened in the dining room to make a plan.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” Monty lamented. “Even when we finally get her to fix Murphy’s shower, that’s just going to be a temporary thing too.”

“That will take her at least a week, though,” Clarke argued.

“One week, and then we’re back at square one,” Murphy sighed. “She’s relentless.”

“What if we just tried talking to her?” Echo asked. “Harper, you’re our leader, surely you can say something?”

Eight heads swiveled from Echo to Harper.

“Can I ask for a new election?” she asked feebly. A quick glance around revealed that no one else wanted the job either.

“We’re down to our last option,” Murphy announced.

“No, you promised it wouldn’t come to that,” protested Jasper.

Clarke reached out and rubbed Jasper’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, friend.”

“There’s a such a thing as collateral damage, you know!” he stated angrily.

The rest of the group nodded sympathetically.

“It’s the only choice,” Murphy told him, sporting a hint of a smirk.

* * *

The next day, Murphy broke Raven. It was easy, really, once he finally got permission to do it.

He peed in her shower.

The whole bunker learned a lot of Spanish that day, or at least a lot of curse words in Spanish. They also learned exactly what Murphy looked like naked when Raven wrenched him out of the shower and threw him out of her room. Murphy didn’t seem too phased, though, and Emori had to force him to wrap a towel around himself as Harper, Echo, and Clarke screamed and ran from the room.

“No more distractions! I am fixing that stupid shower tomorrow!” Raven shouted angrily to the group as she grabbed the bottle of disinfectant and stormed back into her room.

“Six days, Murphy,” Bellamy assessed. “I’m impressed.”

“What’s happening in six days?” Roan asked, suddenly eager.

“Nothing – Murphy cracked Raven in six days.”

Roan sulked away back to his room.

“No one ever thinks of the innocent victims,” Jasper muttered.

* * *

Raven got to work on Murphy’s shower the next day, and, as expected, it took her a while. Clarke was secretly proud of how well she and Harper had broken it – it wasn’t easy to stump that genius.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Harper announced, sitting next to Clarke on the couch, “I think it’s time to talk about this situation.” She lifted the dead ends of Clarke’s frizzy hair and held them up in front of Clarke’s face.

“I know, I know,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. “It’s definitely seen better days.”

“What kind of day?’” Roan asked as he suddenly appeared behind them, making them both jump.

“Better days,” Harper told him, oblivious. “We’re talking about how Clarke needs a haircut. Now that I think about it, you could use a trim, too.”

“Sure,” Roan agreed, and Clarke could have sworn she saw an expression of disappointment flit over his face.

“And you swear you’ve done this before?” Clarke asked.

“Dozens of times,” Harper assured her. “My mom cut hair on the Arc.”

Clarke gulped.

“You scared of a haircut, Wanheda?” Roan teased. “As long as she doesn’t bring back that terrible red, I think you’ll be fine.”

Clarke glared at him while Harper laughed and asked for more details.

“What did you even use for that?” Roan asked.

“The blood of my enemies,” Clarke deadpanned.

Roan lifted an eyebrow. “Were these enemies poppy-berries?”

“Maybe.”

“Haircuts are up, everyone!” Harper called to the rest of the bunker.

“Working on this shower,” Raven shouted back from Murphy’s room. “And my hair is perfect, always!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Harper acknowledged.

“I’m in!” Jasper shouted, running up and jumping on one end of the couch, sliding across to the other end, and promptly falling off and onto the floor.

Monty, Echo, and Bellamy emerged from the dining room sporting excited faces.

“I am so ready to be rid of all of this,” Monty announced.

Emori joined them from the other end of the house, dragging Murphy with her.

“What can you do about this disaster?” she asked, gesturing to the top of Murphy’s head.

Harper narrowed her eyes, thinking. “I think we can make him look human again.”

“Calm down, she’s not asking for a miracle,” came Murphy’s retort.

Within ten minutes, they had their haircut station all set up. They had drained the swimming pool and set up a chair at the bottom, so that all of the hair could be caught there and wouldn’t scatter to the rest of the bunker. Harper had their sharpest scissors, a collection of assorted combs and brushes, a small hand mirror, a glass of water to use when she needed to get someone’s hair wet, and a sheet to use as a cape.

First up was Jasper. His hair was still pretty short, but it had started to grow in funky directions, and he was mainly interested in Harper taming it, which she did quickly. Monty was next. His hair took a little longer, but in the end he looked lighter and far less scruffy. Bellamy’s curls posed a bit more of a challenge, but Harper handled it easily.

Emori and Echo only wanted trims, but Harper also took the time to add layers and body. (She was really just showing off at this point, but they lived in a bunker and it was boring, ok? She was allowed to show off when she was awesome at something.) Roan insisted on cutting his own, but gave up after a few minutes and reluctantly let Harper trim his “glorious mane” (his words).

Through it all, Bellamy watched and yawned, bored. This definitely wasn’t his idea of a fun afternoon. At the same time, though, they did live in a bunker at the end of the world with nothing to do, so he figured he might as well stick around.

By the end, almost everyone had migrated out to the lounge. Bellamy and Roan were playing darts, while a few others were playing pool.

Bellamy was just lining up his winning shot when he heard Clarke enter the room and ask “what do you think?”

He gave her a short glance and threw his dart, which was a mistake, because he missed the board entirely after seeing her. While most of the others had opted for trims, Clarke had apparently wanted a whole new look. Her long hair had been replaced by a shaggy, shoulder-length cut. It was a _great_ look on her – she looked younger, lighter, and much happier. And the smile on her face told him she felt that way too.

She looked incredible and Bellamy was, to put it lightly, not ok with it.

Jasper and Echo immediately started touching it and commenting on what a good look it was. Even Murphy complimented her on it and Emori remarked that now she was regretting not going shorter.

“You might want to pick your jaw up off the floor,” Roan muttered to Bellamy, who still stood aghast at the transformation in his roommate. Bellamy turned and scowled at him. Roan only laughed. The Azgeda prince walked over and ran his fingers through Clarke’s locks. “It looks beautiful,” he told her, turning his eyes to Bellamy at the end to gauge his reaction.

Bellamy glared at Roan and felt his hands flex at his sides, suddenly eager to rip Roan’s fingers out of Clarke’s hair.

_Get it together, Blake_ , he told himself. _It’s just a haircut._

At this point, he realized that everyone was staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He coughed awkwardly and offered a “looks great.” Murphy rolled his eyes and Clarke had a strange look in her eyes, but Harper entered the room a moment later and everyone turned their attention to her, complimenting her on all of their different styles. Harper had also trimmed her own hair, though Bellamy was having a hard time paying attention to any haircut after what had just transpired.

* * *

Bellamy expected that whatever feelings of astonishment he had experienced upon seeing Clarke’s new haircut would dissipate quickly. Seriously, it was just a haircut. Just a haircut that took the young woman he already considered to be too pretty for her own good and make her look even more stunning.

Bellamy had never had a Thing for Short Hair before, but it seemed like he had one now. A little voice in his head told him that what he really had was a Thing for Clarke With Short Hair or, more accurately, a Thing for Clarke, but he told that voice to hush and grabbed another book off of his shelf.

He avoided his bunkermates for the rest of the day, eating his dinner quickly and pretending to be immersed in his book (Roan’s amused smirk told him he wasn’t fooling anyone).

He used the same reading excuse to avoid talking to Clarke in bed that night, but it turned out he didn’t need to, because Clarke was quiet herself. It seemed like she wasn’t looking at him, but Bellamy told himself that he was reading into things too much – she was probably just tired after the big day.

Over the next few days, though, Bellamy became convinced that Clarke was avoiding him. For the first time since they moved in, things were relatively busy in the bunker. Raven was still working on Murphy and Emori’s shower and typically recruited one of them to help at different intervals (by “help,” she meant “hold the flashlight and get yelled at”). Echo and Roan had finally figured out how to build an effective training arena, which they used daily with Harper, Bellamy, and Murphy. Emori and Jasper also joined from time to time. Monty was busy with the farm and still hadn’t harvested the giant squash, which was continuing to annoy Echo, who insisted to anyone who would listen that it should have been picked a week ago. Roan also kept skulking around the bunker, as if he was listening for something, and often seemed moody for no reason Bellamy could discern.

And through it all, somehow Bellamy barely saw Clarke, even though they were stuck together in a tiny bunker and even shared a room. She was in the shower by the time he woke up every morning and didn’t speak to him much at night. He barely saw her during the day and she always seemed to be on the opposite end of the bunker from him. When he was training, she was in the dining room updating inventories. When he was in the living room, she was helping with the farm or putting in her time in the gym. She was polite when he asked her questions, but he could tell something was bothering her.

Bellamy didn’t know what to do about it. It was taking all of his energy to try to keep his cool around Clarke with her new short hair and he didn’t trust himself to initiate a serious conversation about what was wrong, but at the same time she was his best friend and, even though he slept inches away from her, he _missed_ her.

Finally, one morning the dam broke. They were brushing their teeth together at the sink and Bellamy could _feel_ the tension between them.

“Ok, we have to talk about it,” he announced, setting down his toothbrush after rinsing out his mouth.

Clarke looked up, surprised. “Talk about what?” she asked, not meeting his eyes and slipping back into their bedroom. He followed her out, not letting her escape the conversation.

“About whatever it is I did to make you mad.”

“You didn’t do anything and I’m not mad.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her. “You haven’t spoken to me in days.”

“I could say the same for you,” Clarke snapped back.

“Well I’m not mad about anything!” Bellamy replied, his voice getting a bit louder now out of frustration.

“Well you’re the one who started the whole not talking thing. You couldn’t even stay in the same room with me after I got my haircut. It’s obvious what you think – you’re not fooling anyone.”

Bellamy gulped at that. He knew he was obvious, but had he really been _that_ obvious?

“It doesn’t matter what I-” he started, but Clarke quickly cut him off.

“Look, I know you hate it, ok? But it’s just hair and it will grow back. Honestly, Bellamy, it’s a little demeaning that you won’t even talk to me if you don’t like how my hair looks. What are we, seven? You could be fucking polite about it, for fuck’s sake.”

Bellamy choked, unable to form words. So many thoughts swirled in his mind. First, how was it possible that she could be that wrong – she was far smarter than that. Second, _take that Roan_ – Bellamy clearly wasn’t that obvious. Third, maybe he should have been a bit _more_ obvious – it’s clear that he overcompensated. And fourth, Clarke was swearing, which meant that this was really, really bad.

Clarke rolled her eyes at his lack of response and headed for the door to the living room.

Finally, Bellamy was able to shake the tangle of thoughts from his mind and spring into action. Literally spring into action – he crossed the room to her in seconds, stopping her just before she reached the doorknob. He reached for her arms and held them in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Trust me when I tell you that I haven’t been avoiding you because I hate your haircut.”

“Then what is it? What did I do? If it’s not the haircut, then-”

“Oh, it’s the haircut.”

“But you just said you didn’t hate it!”

“That’s the problem, Princess!” Bellamy practically shouted at her.

Clarke looked confused for a long moment, but soon he could see the wheels turning in her head. She chewed her bottom lip, because apparently she enjoyed torturing him.

“Oh,” she said softly.

“Yeah, oh,” Bellamy told her with a small smirk.

“So you like it?” she asked, and her voice had a hint of teasing now. Bellamy rolled his eyes and dropped her arms, but she reached out now, grabbing at the hem of his shirt at the waist to keep him in place. The contact made his heart start beating wildly. They had always been tactile, but this was new. Then she stepped closer into his space and he almost passed out. Since when was he this pathetic around her? She was looking into his eyes with a look that was mostly teasing, but also a little bit genuinely curious.

Bellamy finally allowed himself to do the thing he had wanted to do all week. He reached his hand out and ran his fingers through her short hair, combing the strands and tucking them behind her ear.

“It’s alright,” he told her.

“Just alright?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Something in his mind told him that this was an important moment – a moment not for jokes or for changing the subject, but for honesty.

“It’s so fucking beautiful that I haven’t been able to stop staring at you all week. So beautiful that I’ve done everything I could think of to avoid talking to you because I knew I would just stammer like an idiot.”

She leaned her head into his hand that was still curled in her hair and pulled him closer by his waist. They were inches apart now.

“You’re not stammering now,” she whispered.

“I guess I’m not,” he whispered back, moving closer.

His lips were less than an inch from hers, his eyes lightly closed, and he could feel her breath against his mouth, when suddenly the door to their room was thrown open and Murphy crashed directly into them. They sprang apart, immediately trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Murphy slammed the door to their room closed and stood against it, as if bracing the door against a storm.

“JOHN MURPHY YOU CONNIVING SON OF A BITCH!” came the sound of Raven’s voice from the other side of the door. Yeah, Murphy might have been better off with a storm.

“What happened?” Clarke demanded.

“She figured it out,” Murphy told her in a panic.

“What?!”

“She was saying something about starting on the laundry machines tomorrow and Emori accidentally said something about me needing to break something else to distract her.”

“GET OUT HERE, NOW, YOU RAT!” the angry mechanic shouted.

Luckily, they now heard the sounds of other voices trying to calm Raven down, including Harper and Monty.

“So she thinks it was just you acting alone right now?” Bellamy asked Murphy quietly.

“Yes, but if you think I’m going to take the fall for this one you’re out of your mind,” Murphy shot back.

Clarke turned to Bellamy. “We need to come clean. We can’t let him take the blame for all of it.”

“Do you want that rage directed at _you_?” Bellamy asked her.

“No, but I earned it. We all did. Let’s go get this over with.”

Murphy shook his head at her as she reached for the door, but didn’t stop her from opening it. The first thing Clarke saw was Raven, her eyes narrowed, her ponytail tight, and her teeth seething with anger. The next thing she saw was everyone else, standing a few feet behind her and clearly looking frightened.

Clarke met Harper’s eyes and, after a moment, nodded.

“Time for a house meeting,” Harper declared.

Everyone wore resigned expressions except for Raven, who still looked enraged, and Roan, who looked… excited about something? Clarke didn’t know what was going on there, but Roan was definitely trying to hide a smile.

* * *

“I just don’t understand why you had to lie to me,” Raven declared twenty minutes later. They had explained to her their frustrations with her constant tinkering, as well as what they had done to distract her from working on the laundry.

“We didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Clarke explained. “And a lot of your work does a lot of good and genuinely makes our lives better.”

“Like when you figured out how to wire the tv speakers for surround sound? That was fucking baller,” Jasper contributed.

“But sometimes,” Harper added gently, “the results aren’t as… positive.”

“Like with the microwave,” Emori told her.

“And the blender,” Bellamy added.

“And the kitchen timer,” Roan said, though that earned him several eye rolls. His excited expression had morphed into disappointment as the meeting had gone on – Clarke still had no idea what that was about.

“So you literally broke Murphy’s shower to stop me from messing with the laundry?” Raven said.

“Yes, and it was surprisingly difficult,” Clarke told her. “It took Harper and I forever to wrench that handle off.”

In spite of her anger, Raven found a smirk growing at the corners of her mouth. “You two are idiots. All you had to do was break the seal on the outside of the lever.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” Harper assured her with a wink.

“Are we all good now?” Murphy asked.

“Yeah,” Raven replied after a long moment. “I promise to only tinker when I think it can genuinely improve our lives and when I know what I’m doing, not just for the sake of tinkering.”

“And I’m sorry we lied to you,” Clarke told her sincerely. “In the future we’ll just be more honest.”

There was a pause as they all let everything settle and soak in.

“It feels good to get that off my chest,” Emori said, and everyone agreed.

“I’m glad we’re all feeling better and we can just get back to normal,” Harper announced, and everyone stood, the meeting clearly over.

Well, everyone stood except Roan, who continued to sit with his arms crossed and a glare on his face.

“What’s your problem?” Bellamy asked him.

“Nothing,” Roan said passive aggressively. Bellamy rolled his eyes at everyone and they all made to leave again.

“Nothing except for the fact that it’s my BIRTHDAY TODAY AND NO ONE REMEMBERED!” Roan shouted. “I’ve thought you all were planning something for weeks. I thought there was no way that you would forget my birthday. I even thought this stupid “meeting” might be a setup for a surprise party for me. And now you want us to just ‘get back to normal.’ Well thanks, you jerks.”

Everyone stopped and stepped back into the living room.

“How the fuck were we supposed to know it was your birthday?” Raven asked.

“Did you tell anyone?” Harper asked. Roan shook his head.

“You can’t seriously be mad at us for forgetting when none of us knew about it in the first place,” Monty told him.

“I knew it was your birthday,” Echo announced haughtily, “I just didn’t think you were going to be such a baby about it.” Roan narrowed his eyes at her.

“How old do you think Roan is, anyway?” Jasper asked the room, as if the subject of his question wasn’t sitting right there.

“I think he’s at least 40,” Emori guessed.

“Maybe 45,” Raven offered.

“Could he be 50?” Murphy ventured.

“You assholes, I’m 28,” Roan shouted.

“Calm down, Silver Fox,” Jasper told him, before thinking for a moment and adding a “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Echo asked.

“There are only three single guys in this bunker,” Jasper explained, pointing to Roan, Bellamy, and himself. “Obviously I’m better looking than Bellamy, but I don’t stand a chance against Roan.”

“Wait a second – who says you’re better looking than Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

“I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious,” Jasper replied.

“Yeah, Clarke,” Raven added, shooting Harper an amused look. “Are you saying that Bellamy is more attractive than Jasper? I want to hear your thoughts on that.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” Clarke stuttered, her face blushing. “I was just saying that, objectively speaking, many women, if polled, might find-”

“Oh shut up,” Murphy interrupted, “we all know your thoughts on the subject.” Clarke let out a huff of indignation and crossed her arms.

Jasper stood now, surveying Roan and assessing him, tapping himself on the chin.

“Maybe I’m not out of this,” Jasper announced.

“You know this isn’t a real competition and that literally no one is comparing you, right?” Echo asked, but Jasper shushed her, waving her objections away.

“Sure, does he have more muscles than me?” Jasper asked.

“Yes,” replied everyone in the room.

“That was meant to be a rhetorical question,” Jasper complained. “Does he have better hair, though?”

“Yes,” came the unanimous reply again.

“But can he play guitar better than me?” Jasper asked, now growing more desperate.

“I’ve never heard him play guitar, but I’m still going to say yes,” Murphy replied confidently.

Jasper collapsed onto the sofa, clearly crestfallen. There was an awkward pause.

“But who has more boyish charm?” Monty asked the room.

“Jasper!” they shouted together, and their goofy friend’s smile lifted immediately.

“Tough break, Roan,” Jasper told him kindly, patting him on the shoulder.

“I can’t believe we are spending MY BIRTHDAY making Jasper feel better,” he replied to the room bitterly.

“Well, what do you normally do on your birthday?” Harper asked. “We might still have time to pull something together.”

Roan just looked pouty, so after a moment, everyone started to leave again, but then he called “well the first thing that happens is the feast,” and they all filtered back to the room, _again_ , exchanging eye rolls and sighs at his dramatics.

“Yeah, I don’t think a feast is in the cards,” Bellamy told him. “What else?”

“In Ice Nation on your birthday, everyone hangs a wreath on their door in celebration and there is a magnificent feast and impressive feats of strength,” Roan explained.

“Yeah, that’s really only what happens on the _prince’s_ birthday,” Echo informed them with a smirk.

“Well, there is one tradition that we do for everyone in Ice Nation,” he retorted.

“Oh god don’t subject them to it,” said Echo.

“It’s tradition!”

“It’s torture!”

“Ok, we really need to know it now,” said Murphy with a smirk.

“I’m talking about the traditional Azgeda birthday song.”

Echo rubbed her temples. “You really don’t want to hear it.”

Now everyone was interested.

“We really, really do,” Emori told her.

“Today is the day, the day of your birth,” Roan belted out, making Echo groan. “Come on, Echo, I know you know the words!”

“Today is the day, the day of your birth, the day we celebrate with joy and mirth” she sang reluctantly.

“And when the day has come to close…” Roan prodded.

“And when the day has come to close, we’ll surround you with friends and shield you from foes.”

“That’s not so bad,” Monty commented.

“That’s only the first verse, and the rest are much more violent” Echo told him.

“First of how many?” Clarke asked.

“Eight,” Echo told him.

“Ten, if you’re a prince,” added Roan. Echo rolled her eyes again.

“Well, I don’t think we have time to put together anything like that,” Harper said delicately. “But maybe we could have a movie night? You could pick.”

“Sure,” Roan said with a frown and a deep sigh. “A movie night. Sounds great.” With an obvious look of disappointment, he retreated to his room and shut the door.

The remaining nine of them looked at each other. They had now spent enough time together that they were able to have basically a full conversation without words, communicating in eye rolls and shoulder shrugs. Clarke turned to Echo, who shook her head with tight lips. Clarke turned to Harper and Raven, who shrugged their shoulders. The three of them turned back to Echo. Echo turned to Murphy for backup, who also shook his head, but then Emori stepped on his foot and he shifted his head shake to a sarcastically enthusiastic nod. Jasper pumped a fist in excitement. Bellamy kept his arm crossed and frowned at what he now realized was inevitable.

“We aren’t seriously doing this, are we?” Murphy finally asked with a sigh.

“I think we have to if we want him to stop moping,” Raven replied.

“And it could be fun,” Emori commented. “We haven’t had a party since our first night here.”

“And he did mention a feast,” Harper added, elbowing Monty. “I think it’s time, babe.”

“You can’t be serious,” Monty replied. Harper pouted a little and Monty threw his arms up. “Of all the excuses,” he muttered to no one. Echo’s eyes met Harper’s and they shared a victorious smirk.

* * *

A few hours later, Roan was still pouting in his room. Luckily, he had stashed a few books and a puzzle in there, so he had something to do. He was still mad at everyone for forgetting his birthday. Sure, none of them had actually _known_ it was his birthday, but he was a fucking prince. Some things should just be common knowledge.

Echo had come and gone a few times, rolling her eyes at him and asking when he was going to stop pouting. He had ignored her.

Now, however, his stomach was starting to grumble, and that was something he couldn’t ignore. Sighing, he set his book aside just as he heard Monty call everyone for dinner. Well, that was good timing at least.

He pulled himself up and walked to the door, stretching before he opened it.

The first thing he noticed was that the living room was dark, which confused him. Before he had time to think about it, though, the lights turned on and everyone shouted “Surprise!”

“For me?” he asked incredulously. “Really?”

(He wasn’t surprised, really. He had intentionally laid just enough of a guilt trip earlier to make this happen, and he had heard them all working on something throughout the day – they were living in an underground bunker, after all, and sound carried easily. But, if he was going to make them all go to the effort, he was at least going to feign surprise.)

“Happy Birthday!” Raven told him, setting a paper crown on his head. He turned and surveyed the room. There was a wreath hung on each bedroom door. Upon closer inspection, it seemed they had bent metal clothing hangers into a rough circle shape and then decorated them. Clarke and Bellamy’s wreath had crumbled up balls of paper strung on the metal. Raven and Jasper’s was decorated with coils of wire and cords. Monty and Harper’s had some sort of colorful clothing draped around it. He even noticed the one on his own door, which Echo must have made. Like Clarke’s, it used paper, but Echo had cut hers into leaves that resembled the kind that grew in the town square in Ice Nation. It touched his heart a little bit. The last wreath, on Murphy and Emori’s door, was just the bare metal hanger, not even bent into a circle. That brought a chuckle to him.

“Time for the feats of strength!” Jasper announced. He did an odd sort of roll to the middle of the room, which had been cleared of furniture.

“Jasper, are you sure this is a good idea?” Monty asked.

“I’ve got this,” Jasper said confidently. Roan saw Clarke subtly pull out her bag of medical supplies and set them on the counter.

“For my first feat, I will perform _one hundred push-ups!_ ” Jasper waited for gasps, which Clarke and Raven granted him when they realized that’s what he was waiting for.

He made it through seven push-ups.

“For my second feat,” he announced, springing to his feet after giving up on the push-ups. “I will lift the birthday boy above my head!”

Bellamy and Murphy snickered.

Jasper ran to Roan and wrapped his arms around his thighs, trying to move him. Roan even tried to hop a little bit and give him some help, but it was no use. After a long moment, Jasper gave up on that.

“And for my final feat, I will juggle balls of FIRE!”

“Oooookay,” Monty interrupted, pulling the matches away from where Jasper was groping for them. “I think that’s enough for the feats of strength. Let’s move on to the feast!”

Roan’s eyes widened as Monty pulled a towel off of something on the counter. Sure, it wasn’t the traditional Azgeda birthday feast of seven different beasts, piles of fish, buckets of potatoes and other vegetables, and a massive table of desserts, but it was the giant squash Monty had been tending for weeks, and somehow Roan knew that that was even more significant.

Murphy had roasted it to perfection and Monty sliced it for everyone.

Everyone sung his praises, except Echo, who muttered “it would have been better a week or two ago” to anyone who would listen. There was even a concoction of strawberries, corn, and stewed carrots that was pleasantly sweet and satisfying.

“And here,” Raven announced suddenly, holding out a package to Roan that had been wrapped in scrap paper.

“A gift?” he asked.

“From all of us,” Harper told him.

He opened the box and found the old plastic kitchen timer inside, reassembled and restored to its former glory.

“So how did we do?” Emori asked him. “Did we give our prince a suitable celebration?”

“Best birthday ever,” Roan replied with a genuine smile. “It’s just missing one thing.”

Jasper got out his guitar. Echo rolled her eyes, Murphy grimaced, and Raven subtly slipped her tiny earplugs into her ears, but everyone else just smiled.

“We’ve been practicing,” Harper told Roan with a wink. Jasper strummed a (horrifically out of tune) chord, and they were off.

_Today is the day, the day of your birth, the day we celebrate with joy and mirth_

_And when the day has come to close, we’ll surround you with friends and shield you from foes._

_Once a year we sing to you our ferocious Birthday song_

_And hope that it brings you joy and strength to last the whole year long!_

_For in Azgeda we must have strength and be hearty_

_But once a year we relax and celebrate with a party_

_We celebrate your strength and your skill with a blade_

_We rejoice in the animals you have killed, the skin you have flayed._ (Harper and Monty blanched a bit at that verse)

_And the bones you have broken and the blood you have drained_ (now everyone started to hesitate and took deep breaths to continue)

_Have all made you stronger, your fingernails stained_

_From the entrails of your enemies you dragged out with glee_

_On which we feast today, with a toast to thee!_ (It’s figurative, Echo had assured them)

_And your sword knows no mercy and your bow only wrath_

_As both aid you in pursuit of that righteous bloodbath_ (Emori looked like she was going to be sick)

_We drink from their skulls, on their bones we take rest_ (Clarke cringed)

_But today to our birthday prince we offer our best_

_With wishes for strength and for luck this next year_

_We lift our glasses to you and give you this cheer_

_Today is the day, the day of your birth, the day we celebrate with joy and mirth_

_And when the day has come to close, we’ll surround you with friends and shield you from foes._

In the end, eight of them were clutching their stomachs, trying to erase the imagery from their minds. Echo sported a smirk. Roan had the biggest smile of all and tears in his eyes.

“Best birthday ever,” he announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Having the kiddos home 24/7 is exhausting and finding time to write has been impossible. I am working on a one-shot I hope to post sometime soon, though, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Azgeda birthday songs for everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about science. My scientist sim “synthesizes” things, so that sounded cool. For all other science things, I’m just going to panic moonwalk away.
> 
> Also, this chapter was INSANELY LONG. Future chapters will (hopefully) not be nearly as long.


End file.
